Cutting Up
On the way to work this morning a 4x4 that had been stuck behind me on the mountain bike for all of five seconds came thundering past, obviously in a hurry to have an accident somewhere. As I turned the next corner I half smiled – there was the monster truck, at the back of a line of traffic, snaking into town. Normally I would slow down while passing queueing cars, but I made an exception this time, and went past at what an ex-colleague would have remarked as “the speed of f*cking light”.
I was half-tempted to stick my fingers up as I passed, but didn't.
I spend half my life in public imagining scenes that never unfold – being an outspoken, revenge driven monster – righting secretly perceived wrongs.