A young fellow named Strange

Today at work, I witnessed a young child of no more than eight years beating hell out of several 50 lb. bags of Pedigree dog food. He was unaccompanied by any parents or other figures of authority, and was repeatedly, mercilessly, and quite mysteriously punching these huge yellow bags as if they were piñatas (piñatae?) and would yield vast stores of candy were he to break them open.

I was leveling down some Jamaican beef patties at the time, so I walked over and asked the lad if there was a reason he was attacking the dog food. Perhaps the Pedigree had done something to provoke his offensive? Startled by my question, he turned to stare mutely at me for just a breath or two, then unleashed one final salvo of wild punches and took off running down the aisle. He pumped his legs and arms rigidly, at right angles, seeming to run in place, and yet managing to propel himself away from me nonetheless. The entire spectacle was absurd, but of course there was no one else there to witness it.

Puzzled, but amused, I went back to my beef patties.