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Christian Bixler Jan 2016
Head bent, thoughts cramped, doing
the motions again and again and one
more time, I heard a car honk, and a
guy yellin' somethin' in Italian  at some poor
old lady, who wanted to drive slow,
and take it easy, now that she'd done
all she wanted to do, and seen all she
wanted to see. I looked up at the clock,
saw that it was five fifteen, and I knew that my
boss would have a fit, and probably lay
me off, if I left now, but after givin' the
matter some careful thought, I decided I
just didn't give a ****. I walked out,
slammin' doors as I went, and walkin'
with a long stride that wasn't permitted
in the building, on account of all the noise
it made, which bothered all those good
christian folks, who wanted to slave away
the best part of their lives, working for a
**** boss, doing a meaningless job, all to
put money in the fat mans pocket. May
be, I thought, all that noise might wake em
up. I slammed open the front doors, and broke
flat out into a dead run towards where that ****
Italian guy was still giving that old lady trouble
and lookin' to be enjoying it too. I stopped beside
the guys car, and, seein' that it was a convertible,
I just reached in, grabbed him by his shirt cuffs,
and just yanked him right out of it. It was
some pretty slow movin' traffic anyways. I
lifted him up, so that his face was right about
level with mine, and I said to him,"Buddy, I don't
wanna hear anymore of this **** from you,
ya got me? She's an Old lady just trying to
get home in her own good time, and if I hear
anymore about you harassing those as make you a little
late, well there's lots more where this came from."
After that I proceeded to give him a beating
I don't think he was likely to forget in a hurry.
He was a pretty big guy, but I guess all the stress
of the job must have got to me, because after a
few hits to the jaw he just went limp and just took
it. When I was done I went over to the Old lady,
who was just standin' there stock still, I guess from
the shock of seeing a little guy like me take on
a big guy like him and coming out on top. I wiped the
blood from my split knuckles off on my shirt tails
and asked the Old lady what her name was, and if I
could do anything for her. "Marianne" she said, and
she said that if I really didn't have anything better
to do I could take her home, if I knew a faster way to
get there. It was a simpler time back then I guess, and
folks were a lot more trusting back then. I told her I
could get her out of town and out into the suburbs in about
the time it'd take her to say "Jack Robinson" fast, if that
was where she was heading, and she said that
sounded just fine. I took her to my car and opened
the door for her, and then I got in and we took off.
On the way she thanked me for givin' that guy who
was yelling at her what was comin' to him, and I
said it was my pleasure. When we got to the suburbs
I dropped her off at the address she told me, and told
her to take care of herself. She told me she would.
Then she hugged me, and told me her house was
always open to me, and I thanked her kindly, but I
told her I probably wasn't going to impose on
her hospitality just yet, seein' as I was going on a
little trip and wouldn't be back in a while. She said
she understood, and kissed me on the cheek before
turning away and going inside, and I watched her until
her big yellow front door slid shut with a click.
I stood there for awhile, and then I turned and got
back into my car and drove away, off into the sunset,
just like they do in those old westerns. And I laughed
loud and long as I drove away into that shining golden sunset.
And if that isn't the best, most prefect ending to a
day that started off as dreary as you can ever imagine, then
I don't know what is.
Trying out a new style, tell me what you think.

— The End —