My sister used to torture the neighbour's kitten, Mighty, by dressing him up and strapping him into her doll buggy. Apparently her cruel sadistic streak has only been repressed, not eliminated.
This is the story of ten of the most awkward minutes of my life.
One night, while I was in university, my friend Diane and I were walking back to my place from the club where we had gone dancing. She wanted to stop at 7/11 for a cup of coffee, but had a lit cigarette which she wasn't allowed to bring inside. She handed it to me and said "here, hold this". I stood there outside the 7/11 while she bought her coffee at 2.45 AM, holding a lit cigarette like it was a stick of dynamite. I tried to look natural - you know, like it wasn't my FIRST TIME holding a cigarette at the age of 21 - but was fascinated by the ominous death-stick in my fingers. After a few minutes, when I was growing increasingly worried about the glowing red ring creeping ever closer to my hand, a kid about 15 approached and asked if he could bum a cigarette. I looked up in surprise and said automatically, "I don't smoke."
He looked at the cigarette in my hand. Looked up at me. Said "F*ck you, lady."