The Parking Lot
Alan swung off the highway into the slip road that led to the mall; he was fuming and red-faced - like a kettle about to blow.
Damn cars, damn women drivers. Damn them…
He’d had a really, really bad day; lost a major contract, been called in by the boss. He’d been eclipsed. Humiliated…
His wife, the gorgeous nymph-like socialite, had given him a grocery list. They were having her art gallery friends over for dinner. He simply didn’t know how he was going to stomach them, stomach her; be nice…how?
He drove up the aisle in the mall’s parking lot - he spotted a car reversing. But an oncoming vehicle had seen the same opportunity. Alan knew that the driver had seen the gap first; but he was pissed off, depressed, late and fed up. The car reversed into his competition’s space; giving him the unfair go-ahead.
For a moment he hesitated, just a moment…
Then he aligned his car and stole the space.
Alan fumbled through the glove compartment for his wife’s silly list. He snatched it up, breathing hard; like he’d been lifting weights or running a marathon. His veins were popping, deep red and visible in his temple.
He slammed the car door behind him in his frenzied exit.
Then he saw it…
“Disabled Parking”
Big and bold and red on yellow. Unmissable!
He lurched forward, ignoring the sign.
The “competition car” stalled; right in his path. But he approached like a righteous preacher. Finding his voice he was billowing like a rhinoceros before he reached the spot.
The door of the vehicle was hanging open. A fragile looking woman behind the wheel.
Alan peered into her face.
“Silly bitch, you should learn to be quicker” he laughed into her doe-like brown eyes. He marched on to the mall like a man on speed. He only took one look back
The woman had alighted; supported by a cane.
She was chatting conspiratorially to three very burly parking guard security officers.