Illustration by Bob AulTo the assholes in the blue SUV who drove by the bus stop outside the Cerritos Center on Aug. 29 at about 10 p.m.: there was a bus pulling up, and a few people standing around. I'm sure you looked at all of us and thought how funny it would be to throw eggs at us. In fact, I know you thought it was funny because you drove away laughing. The bus driver told us that his bus has been hit a few times recently. I really don't give a shit if a bus takes an egg now and then; if you had hit the bus, I wouldn't be writing this. But you didn't hit the bus. You didn't hit me. You didn't even hit the guys standing around waiting for the bus. You hit my 11-year-old daughter—the girl in the pink skirt and black jacket. She's pretty tall, so maybe you didn't realize you'd hit a fifth grader. So I thought I'd let you know that you drove by and hit a little girl on her last night of summer. She'd been having a really good day, and she was still bubbling over about how much she liked the movie we'd just seen when she got hit in the leg. Congratulations, assholes. You proved you have the power to take a happy little girl and turn her into a hurt, crying child with a massive welt on her leg with one toss of your arm. It's a good thing you drove away before I had time to get your plate number. I'm pretty sure you'd do time for assaulting a minor if I ever got you in front of a judge. And in jail? Most people, even convicts, don't think it's funny when grown men hurt little girls.
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