ready for war?

During battle the other day (at work) there was a woman a blonde, she was in her late forties I presume holding a pram with a sprawling brat squirming inside it like hatching mosquito larvae. A nuisance, complaining at the front of house in front of everyone. Complaining about a merger matter blown out of proportion by her own imagination. Attracting attention, firing at our army. She had been here before, and I was the victim of her wrath.

This time it was one of the veterans, a waitress who had been around long enough to know her way around a sticky situation. First thing I saw was Vaun (short for Chevaun, the waitress) asserting the facts and the customer reacting with a snarl. Then I saw Mr. Clint come to the rescue Mr. Clint is like superman! Bullets just bounce off him, the General. He bears many scars from the battles he has seen and survived. Now he had a new enemy, he tried to reason with the women.

There was no reasoning with her though, I had served her before, and before she snapped on me and shat on the manger. She told me her husband left her and that she was a single mother, she was unhappy with life and trying to make everyone else the same. She was spoilt and she knew it. You only had to eye her child to believe it.

He was a brat, about 5 years old, in a pram, making a noise and a mess. The table she sat at resembled a war zone where a raging battle had gone on, tomato sauce on the floor from the wounded. Flesh of lost sole-diers squished on the tabletop. It was a mess.

When I severed her weeks before, I was not prepared for war, I was unsuspecting, a private in the ranks of the soldiers. I followed protocol and I was shot down. She had say something to the manager that put me at the bottom of the list. I was just getting out of the lower rungs of the squad. I spent two week in the ‘gallows’ aptly named after the feeling you get when working there. Suicide.

Id survived my sentence in the ‘gallows’ only to see her again, the women who put me there. This time I wasn’t the target I dodged that bullet. This time Vaun was under attack, the onslaught was constant.

Last thing I heard. “I drive a Mercedes Benz and I live in a 3 story house in Camps Bay” bomb dropped by the women with her brat.

BOOM, The generals’ retaliation was swift and precise. “Does that make you a better person than anyone else?” Hit, the woman wobbled away wounded.

The battle was won, our veteran got a new notch on her sleeve and the general a new one on his chest. We had survived the battle, the war rages on.