Who: The Democratic Party and YOU! What: Heading to work in the morning, Mark stops reading about Republican messes to school a few kids. When: Monday Morning Where: Upper West Side Status: OPEN!/incomplete!/PG-13
There were seven kids standing outside his brownstone that morning when he stepped out onto the stoop. They were arguing, loudly, over what video they were going to rent out from the local video store. There was chalk scattered everywhere and his stoop was a colourful mess of everything from flowers to footballs to stick figures. It was the neighbours' children and their friends, though Mark wouldn't have been able to tell the two groups apart if he'd been asked. He just knew that they weren't his kids and that was the important part.
"I wanna get Finding Nemo!"
Mark stooped over on the top stair and scoped up the day's New York Times in his hands. His eyes only skimmed the top headline as he listened to he children continue to fight.
"We just saw Finding Nemo. I want Brother Bear."
"That movie sucks."
Which was all too true, Mark thought. Someone important, he noted, had died in Iran. And the Republicans wondered why he didn't want to go over there?
"Let's get Die Hard."
"They won't let you rent that. You're seven, stupid."
It was only when pieces of chalk started getting lobbed through the air and it looked as if punches were going to be thrown that Mark looked up from his paper, stopped muttering to himself about the utter fuck up that was Sarah Palin, and passed his attention towards the children. He could only raise an eyebrow when examining the scene in front of him. One of the boys was well on his way towards attempting to punch his young female friend while the other two girls circled around him and the two other males circled around them. The posturing children did always tended to amuse him.
Mark scanned the group for a moment before easily placing himself in between the chalk thrower and the fist baller. "Why don't you take a vote?" he suggested, folding the paper underneath his arm as he finally stepped down the stoop.
"Huh?" One of the kids looked up at him.
"Take a vote," he repeated. "You know… see how many people want to watch what and decide based on the majority?"
The youngest of the girls—she looked like she would probably be a biter—looked at him like he might as well have been speaking gibberish. "What's majority?"
Mark shrugged. "Something that works better than screaming, punching, and throwing chalk at each other on my doorstep."
"Sorry," one of the boys muttered.
"Don't apologise, just stop arguing in front of my house, yeah?" His eyes swept over the children again before he reached into his suit pocket and pulled out six crumpled dollar bills. There was a moment's hesitation before he handed the money to the oldest boy. "Rent what you want, and find yourself a copy of SchoolHouse Rock! while you're at it."
People liked to say the children were the future. Mark never was quite sure how he felt about that saying, even though he knew in essence it was true. Who else was there, after all? But there were times, in this day and age, when he wondered whether or not that was really the best thing. Posturing children grew into posturing adults, and posturing adults turned into cowboy Republicans. It was a rather nasty cycle that kept running 'round, but he knew the trick was to get them while they were young.
Though, somehow, he thought he could have done better than SchoolHouse Rock!.
Ah well. And that was why he was headed towards CNN's studios and not Sesame Street. He never had been good with kids.