blunder1740-correctionI spent some time in a shopping center this one fine, ridiculously lazy day, checking what I need, taking what I don’t . . . checking what I need, grabbing and stuffing what I don’t, my eyelids drooping and my feet melting onto the floor. Same old, same old. I sauntered down one aisle and dragged myself up another. I hate shopping, always had, and nothing could rid me of that laborious tandem ride where I’m the only one actually making us move a bloody inch. I took all those things I did not need and a bottle of milk, went to stand in a line that strung a barbed wire around my frail impatience, eventually paid, and left the store.

Now, with the plastic bags in hand, a lovely breeze to cool and soothe my rigidly impatient body, I look to the skies, the blue expanse covered with flecks of white clouds languorously spreading across, inertia justly receiving new meaning, and everything around me going to shit or braving some, I think to myself that nothing can beat the beauty of the skies. Nothing can be more peaceful. Of course, I would have fallen asleep had someone not try to run me over, what with me standing in the parking lot, gawking at the sky like a retard.

Next moment, I heard someone scream. Not the usual ‘hey, girlfriend, like, haya doin’ screams women sometimes like to throw at each other from out of left field, and not the scream of a child not having his/her way, but the hysterical, hoarse scream of an older woman in obvious distress. I threw my bags of ‘groceries’ to the ground, trying hard to listen from which direction the scream came. Ever noticed that when you look for the source of some distracting sound, it’s always from the last place you’ll look? I peered over some of the parked cars, sunlight glinting off its roofs, this way and that, and my eyes stopped on a white car parked across from me, saw this car bucking and heaving on its tender shock absorbers, squeaking like mad. At first flabbergasted introduced itself. You know, parked car, squeaking on its tender shock absorbers. They did not give me enough room to think and analyze and react. I just progressed to reaction.

Mouth agape, I ran to the car, all the while watching as arms flailed out of open windows, the screaming continuing as if it would never stop, car looking like it could capsize at any given moment. My ears rang. People started to gather, whipping out their phones, thinking what a juicy tidbit it would make for YouTube, no doubt, adding an effervescent quality to your day, hurrah. As I got closer, I could hear the panicky whine of a man, as well, possibly out of his mind with – car doors opened, and an elderly lady spilled out, falling to the floor, her head of jet-black hair (white across the middle where roots met scalp) fanned out over her face, her neck crimson red, her face pallor, her scowl as murderous as that of a Hell’s Angel chapter leader. The man screamed, his cheek decorated with four lacerations from nose to ear, shooing her away.

Turns out, she only got in the wrong car. When she did not recognize him, staring at him like a fool, she reverted to traditional attack mode, and had me running out of sheer . . . I forgot my ‘groceries’ in the parking lot. Damn it.

I am new to Yeah Write, and the people looks cool, efficient, and friendly!! Head on there and join them. I did! 🙂