Haste makes waste

Image

A grey and dinged up car circled the apartment complex.  It was in an area where cars were driven by people who knew enough to leave.  It was in a place where cars only circled the area when something was about to go down.

However, the grey car continued to circle the complex, weaving through the poorly marked streets and lanes.  The car was driven by a young woman who was close to tears of frustration.  She had been lost for the last twenty minutes in the apartment complex, driving slowing and squinting at the numbers above each entrance.  A grungy looking maintenance man whizzed up on a golf cart after her sixth pass through the complex.  He slowed next to the woman’s car and suspiciously peered into her window to see her intently following the directions of the GPS on her phone at less than five miles per hour.  Sensing his stare, she turned to look at him and waved with a smile.

Noting a name tag and a clip board on the woman’s passenger seat, he grumbled into a walkie-talkie, “Its fine, just another damned case worker,” and buzzed off back to the heated maintenance garage where he could smoke cigarettes and watch a small portable television in peace.

“Aha!” she shouted.

“This has to be it!” the woman declared comparing the numbers over the red door with the address on her GPS.

Glancing at the digital numbers on her dashboard before shutting the car off, she said, “Shit, late again!”

Silently, she prepared herself for the visit and said, “Ok girl, get it together.”

It was at about that time that the thought crossed her mind to review the last case note from the previous case worker. Nah, no time, she decided as she grabbed her clip board and marched into the entrance of the building.

“Come on in,” a voice yelled from inside when the young woman knocked on the door.

Without hesitation, she let herself in, eager to see what was on the other side.

“Hello, Mrs. B.  How are you?” the young woman began in with the questions immediately, filling the room with her nervous chatter.

She continued, “Tell me about this wheel chair.  How long have you been in this?  Seems like something new.”

Mrs. B sat in a wheelchair with a rough pink blanket over her lap and a bright green head wrap.  A flash of confusion crossed her face and was quickly replaced with a wide smile.   A second woman in the room began to laugh, her big chest and stomach bouncing up and down as the two fed off of each other, whooping and cackling.

“She don’t know,” the second woman managed to wheeze out between chortles.

Trying to control her laughter, Mrs. B turned towards the young woman with a straight face.

“Girl, I done been in this wheelchair for a long time now.  Maybe you didn’t notice but I don’t have no legs,” she explained.

The young woman’s eyes bugged out in disbelief at her obvious mistake.  She stared at the space in the blanket that should have been filled out by big, black legs, but where instead, the blanket was flat.

Advertisements

5 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. shystallion
    Dec 11, 2013 @ 06:09:15

    Lovely.I love your short stories keep them coming.I am busy preparing for Christmas I will read some earlier posts when I have time,promise.

    Reply

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s

Blog Stats

  • 6,063 hits
%d bloggers like this: