This World and then the Fireworks

I've been flying a black flag in front of my house since last Tuesday. No one's said much about it until tonight. I was sitting on my front porch, drinking a little decaf espresso, letting the sunset. We live on a side street, but it's a street that leads right to the Rock Island trail so tonight there was plenty of traffic. Normally, I people watch. Bad bikes, bad running form. Kids having fun and making their parents both panic and smile. My cup is nearly empty and some yuppie father in his finest adidas says something to me that I don't quite catch. I sit up and grin. Most people are friendly and being polite's no huge chore. "I'm sorry?"

"Why in the hell are you flying that flag?"

"Because it's illegal for me to walk up and bash your fucking teeth in." Deadpan delivery. I'm just drinking coffee.

Now polite is out, so we play the waiting game to see who bails out and what stupid thing they'll say to save face when they do it. I just sit in my chair. He glares between me and the flag. It's been too long. He's not coming up my driveway yet so I know he's not going to go anywhere but away. I sit back, see a toy light saber sitting in my yard. What if I hit this idiot with a toy lightsaber? I smile and he sees it.

"What the fuck are you smiling about?"

"Hitting you with a light saber."

Now Adidas doesn't know what to do, which of course I love. He starts walking away.

"You should take that down."

I didn't say anything in return. I probably should have said some clever Star Wars line or at least raise my coffee cup to him in the finest Pulp Fiction style, but I just watched him walk off.

I know that doesn't have anything to do with bikes or single speeds, so humor me and file that under assorted snobbery.