It was one of those hot, glorious dog days of summer. I was playing in the front yard with a hose, when I spotted our neighbor Mr. Kay approaching down the street in his car. For reasons I will never be able to fully decipher, I had the sudden impulse to spray him with a hose right through the open window of his passing vehicle. I managed to time it so that the point of impact of the hose coincided with the arrival of his friendly wave.
Upon impact, he quickly slammed on his brakes and started scolding me.
“What in the hell did you do that for?!” he said, wiping the water off his face with a handkerchief.
I stood there like a helpless mute, hose still in hand.
My mother ran out to see what was going on. She apologized, took me inside, and proceeded to scold me even further. I had no ill feelings toward the man whatsoever, yet, I felt compelled to spray him with a hose.
It never happened again.