Corrupting the Youth of New York

I could hear little mouths drop followed by the clenching of maternal fists when I topped out on the boulders of Rat Rock in Central Park, puffing on a cigar, surrounded by the impressionable  youth of several nations.  A group Taiwanese tourists wandered onto the ledge to photograph the skyline and had to descend on their butts, cameras held high, laughing.  I played and they played and I left muddy and slightly bloodied, and very happy.  Ecorche was cancelled today, so I'm home waiting on a garlic miche to rise while trying to balance my espresso consumption with a reasonable human sleep schedule.