Wednesday, February 18, 2015
The plastic lid to my takeaway honey chicken and fried rice Chinese food from the Thai takeaway was blowing majestically in the wind. Two or three feet it carried until it came to a sponge soft nails on the chalkboardesq scrape across the tiled floor. Awaking all in the surrounding vicinity to look up, numerous individual minds and drifting and dreaming imaginations all now focused on the one thing like magic.
Two men in business suits opposite me were now looking upon me with a hint of 'you better pick that up you littering fuck' glistening off their eye balls. No words spoken, but a million conveyed.
My warm yet gentle 'of course I'm gonna pick it up, I'm not some cunt who doesn't pick up his trash, so don't accuse me you dicks' smile failed to relieve their lovely silent and yet poignant plea. So I added a heartfelt 'it's the third time it's blown down there, ok? I've nearly finished my lunch and I'll pick it up a third time when I make my ultimate trek towards the garbage bins, yes bins plural because I will not just take care of my garbage responsibilities in the minimum required ways, but I'll make the extra fucking effort to divide my plunder amongst the most socially and environmentally beneficent receptacles, so don't you fucking judge me you assholes, I'm one of the good guys, I fucking take care of shit, and I don't accuse people of being cunts without evidence like you two fucking cunts' raise of the eyebrows.
The two business men and I locked horns briefly, glints from our eyes shooting at each other's like fireworks on New Years Eve, in a standoff so beautiful and touching I won't label it Mexican, because I wouldn't want the delicious foods from that wonderful nation to enter the picture and dilute what was already heartfelt and moving.
Just then three juvenile delinquents, no older than fourteen, walked past smoking cigarettes oblivious, it seemed, to just how pathetically lame they appeared in their cliche attempts to look cool or grown up or whatever it is that makes kids choose to look so freaking stupid. The two business men and I watched them walk past then looked back at each other and we all laughed heartily at the little tools, our chuckles now absolutely laced, saturated even, with mutual recognition of just how ridiculously pathetic these tools looked.
I took one the final forkful of my lunch. Stood up. Reached down to pick up the stray lid. But it was no longer there.
I looked all around for it. It had vanished. Evaporated. Passed into the netherworld. As if our mocking of the teenage losers had been rewarded with a true miracle.
I put my remaining garbage in the various trash cans and walked away. The scrapping of my shoes on the tiles from my lazy strides whispering 'life sure if beautiful you cunts'.
Today was the best day of life, and if you ask me, and you totally should because I have an answer teed up to go, people who jaywalk on a major roads in formal wear seem way more likely than those in casual wear, smart or otherwise, to get hit and killed by a car.
I say this, because this evening I saw a couple in formalwear jaywalking. Then they got hit with a car.
In my mind at least.
Oh they got hit gooood too. The dudes little bow tie got stuck to the windshield with blood, one of the girls heels flattened a tire, almost as flat as the tire made her face, and their last words to each other were.
'Let's run it'll be fun'
'Weee, we're better than all the other couples'
'Nothing bad will ever happen to us'
'We are lords of the universe!'
Then they got hit by the car.
In my mind at least.
Wait this has taken a dark turn somewhere. I think maybe when I mentioned the jaywalking? That is illegal. Or when I used the word 'teed' which is a golf reference and a sport often monopolized by rich stereotypical caricatures that make people 'caddy' their 'clubs', what's that all about? Or maybe it was the smart casual reference, if they're so smart why don't they wear comfortable shoes damn it! I don't know, it's a mystery. Hmmm, maybe it was when I said I had an answer but never really had a question? Or when I imagined them getting hit by the car? Nope. No idea.
Wait wait wait wait, I totally got off track. Don't run through speeding traffic in hard to run in shoes people! It really freaks people watching out.