Six Year-Old Narc Calls The Cops On His Dad For Running A Red Light
There are a couple of rules when it comes to family: 1) Never stay at a family function that includes alcohol for more than 3 hours unless you want to see people start fighting 2) Never Narc on family. Ever. Even if dad starts a forest fire or little Timmy steals a few pieces of pizza from the local place, you keep your mouth shut. Because, in turn, that means that they’re keeping their mouth shut about you, too. You can’t turn your older brother in for beating up some guy he had words with at the local bar and then expect him to cover for you when you pinched stealing money out of the church collection basket. That’s what little Robbie doesn’t understand here. You can’t shit down your dad’s throat and then expect him to still put food on your plate.
Via Boston Globe:
“Robbie Richardson wants to be a police officer when he grows up. During the Memorial Day weekend, the 6-year-old Quincy boy got a taste for what it’s like to be behind the badge. Robbie dialed 911 to get in touch with the police Saturday after his father, Michael Richardson, ran a red light while the two were out running errands. Michael said that after stopping at a light near Furnace Brook Parkway, he proceeded to take a right turn on red.
As he rolled through the intersection, Robbie belted out that his dad had broken the law. Robbie wasn’t shy about it Wednesday.
“I told him to stop, but he didn’t listen,” he said outside his family’s home. At the time, Michael tried to explain to his son that it was OK to take a right turn at a red under certain circumstances. Robbie wasn’t convinced. He knows his traffic laws.
“When a green light says go, you go that way, or that way, or that way, or that way,” he said, motioning with his hands different directions a car can drive. “A yellow light makes you slow. And then a red light makes you stop.”
Mom taught him that, he said. Not Dad. Robbie warned his father — they were headed to the car wash in Robbie’s mother’s white Nissan Rogue — that as soon as they returned home, he was going to notify the police. Michael laughed, he said, and brushed off the comment. But Robbie wasn’t bluffing. As Michael, his wife, Joleen, and their 18-month-old daughter enjoyed the sunny weather outside on Saturday, firing up the grill for a start-of-the-summer feast, Robbie headed with determination to the house.”
Fuck this kid. Seriously. Fuck him. Right in the face. Who does he think he is? The kid’s probably an absolute nightmare to have around the house. Big fucking know-it-all. This kid’s like all those people who thought the Duke lacrosse team was guilty. “They’re guilty because I think they are. Let’s involve law enforcement.” The kid’s a little backstabber. His dad was cooking him dinner and he thanked him by turning him over to the fucking police. Sick Benedict Arnold. Actually, Robbie’s worse than Benedict Arnold. At least Benedict Arnold fucked chicks. We all know that Robbie is waiting until marriage and also telling on people who don’t. “911? Yes, my college roommate banged a pretty girl from his class without a condom on. My mom said that you aren’t supposed to do that.”