Went into my local shop today to buy their 4 slices of bacon pack, I do love some bacon on a Saturday morning, cooked until crispy and then on some toast with brown sauce.
I’m a simple man of simple tastes it’s a fine hangover cure and a once a week treat for me).
Anyway walk into the shop and there’s a fat (I mean fat with leggings on and a generous overspill of lard white skin on display!) woman speaking with a ridiculous accent. Look my dear you were born and live in Sydney, so why you speak as though you’re from “the Hood” in LA is beyond me, “Fu sae I jars wan a ta arp for ma fone guy yanaa, yoo na undersan inglish”. (which I think translated meant “Fucks sake, I just want a top up for my mobile phone you know, do you not understand English?).
Anyway I pick my bacon up and queue behind her and she continues to berate the chap behind the counter (known him for years, really polite and helpful Sri Lankan chap), she turns to me and says “Fak does he not speak english or wa?”. Now usually I don’t acknowledge people such as this but I was hungover and annoyed on his behalf so replied “Actually he speaks better English that you do and at least he knows how to speak to people politely”.
The baggage then throws the packet of potato chips and can of Red-Bull she had in her hand (perhaps her breakfast?) on the floor, gifts me with a “Fuck you” and storms out of the shop, BUT here’s the lovely poetic end. As she’s walking out, her face turned toward me swearing, someone else had come in and she walked straight into the side of the open door smacking her head against it.You know it’s at times like that, just for an instant that the cosmic puzzle that is life falls into place.
I hope I’m right in thinking that laughing until it hurt is not a sin.
Got my bacon for free as well, which was nice.
Good day to all.
by Jim Aborwhear