some experience all round!
well told
(we presume nothing invented by Bill) -
my house move on 1 Feb is to a tram stop.
I can then swap the perils of driving for the perils of public transport.
Max
(currently packing in Doncaster,
moving to St Kilda Rd, Melbourne 3004)
On 23/01/2013, at 7:08 AM, Bill Wootton wrote:
> Publicly transported
>
> She swung on to the Smith Street tram with a can
> of Jack Daniels and Coke clenched in her teeth;
> bulky bag in each hand, slouched to a seat. Hot.
>
> Opposite her, a neat-collared man who was not
> about to accept this affront sitting down,
> must have muttered his immediate disdain.
>
> The girl's blank smile snapped from her face
> and the main show began. 'What's it to you,
> you old fuck?' voice gathering volume.
>
> No way out now, he must have given her,
> sotto voce, more grist to work with. 'Hey!
> Did you hear that?' she challenged us all.
>
> 'He said he was going to hit me. I'll have you
> charged, mate!' Her right index finger arced down
> at him, left hand with clasped can hovering,
>
> the effect like a bird of prey with wings
> lifting, prior to ascent. 'You heard him,' she
> flashed round to the hapless tram driver,
>
> cringing in his closed cubicle, from where he
> had attempted placatory words and gestures
> but had only upped the anger ante. Next stop,
>
> an old lady hobbled on with walking stick.
> Mister Jones loomed to his feet, offering
> his seat. Time for a regenerative can slurp.
>
> 'Watch out for this fucker ... ah sorry
> lady, for language ... but he threatened me.'
> A distinct word now carries from Standing Man:
>
> 'Uncivilised.' A wispy-bearded young Malaysian
> opposite me hazards a grin. I don't return it.
> Other passengers shift sweatily in their seats.
>
> Her flick knife is out and up, blade waving
> under the man's nose before anyone can react,
> even if they had the daring to do so.
>
> Collared Man stands on but understands now
> what he's bought into. Edges off at the next
> stop. Victoria Parade. Away. But no -
>
> she's following him off. 'Ya bald, fat fuck!' Her
> skimpy top rises as she clambers down, exposing
> a thin, sun-denied midriff, lightly bruised. Bing!
>
> The tram shoves off, bound for Bourke Street
> and beyond. I turn but already the two have been
> swallowed in milling Melbourne pedestrians.
>
> Bill Wootton
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