Sometimes I despair for the human race, I really do.
A fat woman covered in make-up to make her skin look vaguely human was standing in front of me at the checkout in the supermarket this morning when she suddenly lashed out at a passing bee or wasp and smacked me in the face with her heavily bangled wrist.
‘Ouch!’ I said.
‘I hate bees,’ she told me.
‘That really hurt,’ I said, rubbing my eyebrow.
‘You shouldn’t have been standing there,’ she informed me.
‘Where do you suggest I stand?’ I asked her. ‘I need to pay for my provisions.’
‘You shouldn’t be standing behind me,’ she went on. ‘I can’t be responsible for what happens behind me.’
I looked down at her fat arse and began to formulate a witty reply but thought better of it and moved across to the next checkout.
Once there, I positioned myself behind a sweaty workman in orange overalls who was emitting an unfortunate odour that brought to mind a blend of chips and sewage. He was buying something hot and meaty for his lunch. ‘You don’t mind me standing behind you, do you?’ I asked, loudly enough that the bee woman could hear.
‘Don’t get shirty with me, Professor Boo-Hoo,’ he warned, looking at bee-woman and shaking his head as if to imply: people today, eh?
Again, a scathing riposte began to form in my mind, but my internal voice of sense and reason quickly assessed the situation and told me: ‘Here’s a better plan: say nothing.’
In the end, I was rather pleased with myself; I managed not to react and just smiled serenely at no one in particular.
Outside, I untied Audrey, kissed her on her soft, warm head, and told her I loved her.
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