Crones

by George Anderson

At the Caltex
pump a white
Toyota veers
sharply up a one
way entrance &
pulls beside the #7
petrol pump
blocking my
exit. A fat
greying woman
slams her door.
I’m sick of self obsessed
crones like her & yell out
thrusting out my middle
finger, ‘Read the
fucken sign next
time. This is one
way only!’ She is
disgusted. ‘Who do you
think you are swearing
at me? My husband’s in
the car. He’ll fix you fast’.

I stare in the car. He’s in
the back. He’s not going
anywhere. I’m 6’2’’210.
I’m not as fast anymore
but still hard to take down.
‘I don’t give shit lady,
the point is you’ve driven
up a one way lane & you
are blocking my way. There
are signs everywhere! Now
I’m going inside to pay for
my petrol & when I come back
out you better be fucken gone’.
Her husband, about 40, winds
down the window & apologises,
‘Sorry man, she always does this
to me. Please ignore her. She’s
receiving professional help’.

As the automatic door bolts
open I hear the quick churn of
tires, the crone’s defiant wrinkled
face snarling from the window, her
horn an emblem of her impotent fury.


*George Anderson's blog:
http://georgedanderson.blogspot.com/