I am no fan of violence but there are a couple of things i'll give concession to:
1. A conductor (Hwindi) being beaten up by a woman,
2.Hwindis beating each other up, preferably to a pulp. That is what I call gratifying violence. Or better still
3. a civilian coming up to a hwindi and beating the living daylights out of him. I mean what fun? What joy? For me and everyone else around.
Imagine us piping in.A bite of the foot, savaging of the clothes, hair coming out in clumps, a resounding clap to the left ear. Nail scratches from one cheek across the lips to the other. The crack of bone chilling crack of rib bones cracking.
A heavy thud and a yell from outside bring my thoughts back to the present; it seems there’s been an accident. Some woman dressed in red is howling hysterically. The car she was in just got hit by a fella on a motorcycle. In his defence I doubt he actually saw her, the poor guy must have been seeing red. And like a moth to a flame he went for her. Or perhaps to fit the violent nature of the act, like a bull to a matador, he charged...Never understood why bulls would charge for the the red when they were colour blind. if anybody knows, please. leave a comment.
But, i digress. Back to the present, again.I can’t help but think that my violent train of thought brought this on. After all whatever energy you give out is comes right back at you. Or in this case some reckless driver on a motorcycle. But since I do not believe in any of this hocus pocus mumbo jumbo, I’ll blame it on the trailer parked right by the curb of the T-Junction, and no one can see what’s coming or going, or careening. And with that I leave my chair in a huff to go and tell the owner of the trailer that their recklessness and not the woman’s red dress nor the other driver’s negligence caused the accident!
|You really can't see traffic coming from your right|
|filthy thing, like a death trap it is.|