Tuesday 27 September 2016

The Liquorice

For audio click here 
The liquorice tasted sweeter than usual. I pulled a face and stuck my tongue out, and that was my first mistake. You see, the man walking past the window, the six-foot-eight man with arms bigger than my chest, thought that the gesture was aimed at him, and apparently six-foot-eight men with arms bigger than my chest don’t like little pipsqueaks like me sticking their tongues out at them, they don’t like it at all. The six foot eight man, with arms… you get the drift, stopped dead in his tracks and stared at me. I smiled and waved not realising my first mistake, and that was my second mistake. Apparently, angry six foot eight men, interpret smiling and waving after face pulling and tongue sticking outing, as sarcasm. Another thing I learnt about six-foot-eight men is that they have very short fuses. The passer-by slammed his fist into the window which shook like a jelly on a plate, drew an imaginary line across his neck, turned on his heel and headed for the door of the café. At first, I sat wondering what had made the angry man so angry. Then as I replayed the scene back in my mind the realisation struck. He thought I was sticking my tongue out at him! I needed to get out of there and sharpish. But where to go? There were two doors in the back room of the café; one led into the front room of the café where the SFEMWABTMC was, or the door into the toilet. Being sensible, I decided to take the door to the toilet. 
“Oi squirt, where the bloody hell do you think you’re going.” For such a big man the SFEMWABTMC had a surprisingly high voice. However, I guessed I was in enough trouble already, so I decided against telling him that. I also decided against telling him where I was going. He could work that out for himself. I just quickened my step, slammed the door of the only toilet and locked it with haste. 
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. “Come out you coward.” Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. I was beginning to realise that coming into the toilet was my third mistake. I was trapped. The window behind the cistern was locked and barred and the door behind me was guarded by a SFEMWABTMC with a mind to kill me. Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang. I put the seat down and sat on the toilet. The door shook as the man hammered on it. I settled in for the long haul. 
“What you scared of” the man yelled, giving the door another thump. 
“Donald, Donald.” it was a different voice, equally high pitched but slightly more feminine. 
“Oh, that’s where you’ve got to. What am I going to do with you? Always wandering off.  Need a wee do we dear?”
“No mum it’s...” 
“Oh, you need a poo poo do you?” Oh well, if the toilet’s busy, you’ll have to wait until you get home, come along.”
“No, it’s…” 
I took the opportunity to escape. I pulled the lock back and opened the door. The six-foot-eight man with arms bigger than my chest seemed to have shrunken into his own body, he was now no more than a nine-stone weakling with arms no bigger than my fingers. I blew him a kiss as I squeezed past him and his mother and watched as she pushed him into the cubicle. 
“I’ll wait outside dear,” she said, as the door shut behind him. 

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