Two Ladies Out for a Pleasant Walk

The two ladies were led by their little dogs down the sidewalk in front of my apartment. They were gossiping about somebody or other. I keep my windows open on fine afternoons, and any conversations that take place in the street sound as clear as if they were taking place on my front porch. Just fifteen minutes before this, when I had arrived home from work, there'd been a high school girl sitting on the electric box outside my gate, waiting for her boyfriend to come pick her up. Lots of teenagers hang out at that spot. Each morning there is a group there, smoking and talking about things I would rather not have to listen to. But they are very polite to me whenever I leave for work. And whoever is there when I arrive home is just as polite. They do leave quite a mess in their wake. Hot pink and black cigarette boxes, nasty cigarette butts, strips of paper torn off of failed English assignments, and broken plastic cups don't outright destroy the overall scenery, but they don't let you imagine that you live in a secluded country home, either. I was sitting at my desk when I saw their shadows on the sidewalk outside the gate and heard their voices over the brick wall. Two ladies. The word lady in Noah Webster's Dictionary of 1828 states that a lady is "A woman of distinction. Originally, the title of Lady was given to the daughters of earls and others in high rank, but by custom, the title belongs to any woman of genteel education." "Just look at this!" cried the younger. Their shadows stopped advancing. "What is it?" demanded the elder. "It's those d***** high-schoolers. They're always sitting around here, and then they go and leave their s*** all over the place." She had discovered the mess I was referring to, and was using genteel vocabulary to describe the scene. "That's disgusting," commented the elder. "Typical," sneered the younger. True ladies recognize bad education and repudiate its influence. "Let's turn around here," said the younger. "He's done." "Who's done?" I wondered as their shadows retreated. I was curious about the immature mess that had sparked their commentary. When I had arrived, I hadn't really noticed anything worth looking twice at. So I grabbed my key and didn't bother to slip on my shoes. They and their dogs were already gone around the next corner. I opened the gate and glanced at the grass. But before my eyes could be attracted by anything resembling teenager trash, they were hijacked by the sight of a large pile of dog food that had travelled the full extent of the dog's digestive tract. Not two seconds later I was assaulted further by a most unpleasant odor, compared to which cigarette smoke and ashes is a rose garden. I had to retreat directly, and I was forced to shut my windows on what would have otherwise been a quite pleasant day in the big city. Moral: Whenever we encounter utter depravity in the world, we should do our best to grace the situation with our own little gifts of decency and decorum, for the betterment of society.