My New Bike

"What the fuck do you want me to do about it!?" The door slams in your face. It's clear he isn't exactly fond of children, especially those that have made their way on his doorstep.
Nice going.
A crystal tear manages to escape your eye, running smoothly down your cheek, slowly, you turn, and make your depressing state slowly shuffle away from that house, which evokes a keen sense of sadness. You'll never get back home. Your life is becoming more and more strange by the minute, your salient bike has been take from your grasp, and now, you have no way of returning home.

What's your next approach?