It was like the zombie apocalypse had arrived while I was
sleeping. The high street which had been a vibrant, sunny, bustling, hub of the
community was now the pit of despair. People drifted around aimlessly; there
were no cheery good mornings in the
green grocers, no alright butts
outside the betting shop, no have a nice
days in the butchers; people grunted their hellos and mumbled their
goodbyes.
The place looked like it had been washed on too high a
temperature, colours had run and people shrunk. Faces were drawn and gaunt; smiles
had been outlawed, frowns were commonplace.
There was tension in the air, mothers screamed at toddlers.
Drivers leaned on their horns. Pedestrians tutted at those living life in the
slow lane and cursed those pushing past them. A man jabbed his finger into the
chest of a youth on a bike. Everyone was jerky, jumpy, jittery. What was going
on?
“Gone,” said one near Zombie.
“You’re jokin’?” said her friend. “I was there yesterday.”
“Me too,” said the first. “But today, ‘sgone.”
“What the fuck are we gonna do?” Zombie two asked. “Where
the fuck are we gonna get our …” I didn’t hear what she said but I guessed that
some drugs den had been closed down by the police leaving the good people of
Canton* desperate for their fix. That might explain one or two long faces but a
whole community?
A strange buzzing filled their air. Were we being invaded by
killer bees, or doodlebug aliens? I looked around for the cause of the source
but there was nothing to be seen against the backdrop of grey. Light rain began
to fall adding to the gloom and the droning got louder. I began to realised it was
the mumbling of the zombies. Over and over again they chanted the same thing; desperation
in their eyes, despair on their lips.
no sausage rolls,
no steak bakes,
no cheesy pasties,
no cream cakes,
no curry lattices,
no flatbread wraps,
no cheap coffees,
no breakfast baps.
It was then I saw it;the void, the black hole, the cause of the
pain. A crowd had gathered come to see for themselves and now standing, staring
in disbelief. It really was true. One man stood forward and hammered on the
door, but no one came to answer his cries for help. A woman threw herself on
the floor, inconsolable. Some posted a picture on Facebook and a petition was
started on 38 Degrees. The droning started anew, louder, more desperate.
no sausage rolls,
no steak bakes,
no cheesy pasties,
no cream cakes,
no curry lattices,
no flatbread wraps,
no cheap coffees,
no breakfast baps.
Their worse fears had been realised.
Greggs the Baker** was closed for reconstruction.
*Canton is a small suburb of Cardiff known for it's vibrant high street.
**Greggs the Baker is a cheap and cheerful chain of food outlets that is very popular for its sausage rolls and other savoury goods. There are more Greggs in the UK than there are McDonalds.
Amusing :-)
ReplyDelete