“But no longer. Now I’m the butt of their jokes— young thugs! whippersnappers! Why, I considered their fathers mere inexperienced pups. But they are worse than dogs—good for nothing, stray, mangy animals, Half-starved, scavenging the back alleys, howling at the moon; Homeless ragamuffins chewing on old bones and licking old tin cans; Outcasts from the community, cursed as dangerous delinquents. Nobody would put up with them; they were driven from the neighborhood. You could hear them out there at the edge of town, yelping and barking, huddled in junkyards, A gang of beggars and no-names, thrown out on their ears.
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