Wednesday, November 17, 2010

Something wicked this way comes

I have doubtless referred to the occasional profanity of my personality. I'm not too much of a swearer, but perhaps what I mean is that I find incidents such as the one that follows madly amusing. In this one, I offer a complete stranger a violence. He declines.

I remember that I was ill, so my ex-hubby took me to the pharmacy at the shopping-center. As we reversed out of the parking space, a car came whizzing around the corner just as the ex happened to be checking the opposite direction.

I suppose I must have squeaked ‘Stop’ or something equally intelligent and as far as I knew there’d been no impact. The other car didn’t drive on, though. Its driver got out of the car, so I thought perhaps there had been a light coming together. I wasn’t driving, but it was my car, so I got out too.

‘F! Why don’t you look where you’re F-ing going!’ yelled the man while I checked the bumpers and found that they hadn't so much as touched.

‘Its not up to me to look where we’re going. Talk to him!’ said I, indicating the ex, who had by now unfolded his six-foot-something self from the driver’s seat.

The man glanced at the ex and obviously preferred airing his grievances to five-foot-nothing me, so he returned to berating me. ‘F! F! F!’ I forget the details – it was good rhetoric, though, very articulate and persuasive.

‘Are you slow of understanding?’ asked I, by this time becoming a tad annoyed: ‘Driver’s side, passenger’s side. Talk to the driver’

By this time the.. er .. gentleman had confirmed to his own satisfaction that the ex wasn’t going to do anything about him yelling at me, but might take offence if yelled at directly, so he just ignored my interjection and kept berating me while a queue of vehicles built up behind his stationary car.

‘F! You must look where you're F-ing going!’ he yelled ‘F! F! F-ity F!’ or words to that effect.

It was at this point that I snapped. I drew myself up onto my tippy toes (I really did) and strutted forward like a barnyard rooster on the rampage: ‘Do you want a smack?’ I hissed, and do you know what? He turned on his heel, got back into the car and drove off without another word.

I've never done something like that before or since, but it still makes me giggle when I remember it. I'm ever so fierce, you know!

Today's pic: something prickly


  1. Good Morning Andrea! You are so funny, I could have beat your ass I know I could! Do you guys drive on the wrong side like your English counterpart? I am sure there is an historical explanation for that, like left-handedness or something. I am sure it was all a missunderstanding, obviousy language and accents were an issue!

  2. Don't they allow guns in SA? Flame throwers? Grenades? You have to solve conflicts with words? How barbaric.

  3. I let profanity fly enough for BOTH of us, lol !

  4. Funny! And what a wimpy guy. I bet in his telling of the story he confronts the huge ex and beats him to a blithering pulp.

    I can clearly see you doing your riled rooster dance. Well done!

  5. Hello. We drive on the left. This is the corect side of the road. What happened during the international debate, was that someone said 'Let's drive on the left, right?'
    and some people wrote down 'left' and others wrote down 'right'. Now you know! Re your other comment, Stonepost, you'd have to catch me first! :)

    Grant. You are so right. I always use you as a model of right and proper thinking and once again I am impressed with your incisive and socially responsible comment.

    Heff: Yus, that's cuz you're not a lady :)I'm not either, but of course, I'm supposed to generate the impression, at least.

    PAMO: I thought the ex was rather wimpy letting this feller harangue me, but ja-nee (direct translation'Yes-no')as we say in SA when we want to be non-commital. At all events, its my only tale of violence or threatened violence or something like that.