Shudder Recoil Grimace

OK. So let me set the stage. I get on the R Train and this little girl (maybe 7 or 8?) is swinging around one of the poles. Now, nevermind the irony should she grow up and seek employment as an exotic dancer, taking her tits and minge out for singles. I for one think that if you can't control your kids on the train, you shouldn't have kids. Already have some? Then it's time to put them down. But that's not the point...

This girl is swinging around and her parents are oblivious. Pay attention to your fucking spawn, lest they get snatched, right? It turns out they weren't the parents at all, b'c they got off the train and didn't bat a lash at leaving this girl behind. I just assumed they were related b'c the girl was vaguely Persian and they were some sort of indeterminate ethnicity with olivey-brown skin. Everybody else around the girl is white. Who does this little shit belong to?

So she's swinging and swinging and swinging when suddenly His Highness Sir Creepington, Lord of Creepbury Manor, King Creep of All He Surveys, strikes up a conversation with the girl. This guy is about 60 with pederast coke bottle glasses, shoulder-length gray hair that is stringy and greasy and a pock-marked face that just screams "I'd Rather Be Raping". Everything about him sets my Spidey Sense a-twirlin' and a-whirlin'. But the girl is just happy to have someone to pole dance for.

Lamb. To. The. Fucking. Slaughter.

So what follows is an actual exchange between the two of them that I overheard:

King Creep: Be careful. You're going to fall and hurt yourself.
Girl: ...
King Creep: Today is candy day. Do you want some candy?
Girl: Please tell my Mom I've been good.

WHAT THE FUCK? TODAY IS CANDY DAY?!?! HURK! It was like textbook, After School Special kiddie baiting. It was at this point that I got off the train. It's too bad. I could've turned the guy into Oprah for the Pedophile Reward Money. Lord knows I need it.