HARD WOMAN

That's me that is-hard. Cruel. Backcombed hair
and a cigarette. Is it fuck. I'm a soft sooky wuss
with as much fibre as a Wotsit.
"Bye." I said without looking up. Patrick and Catherine
The Geek got out of the car.
"That's it?" Said Alan:"No fulsome goodbyes or retributions?"
He had his sarcastic t-shirt on. I ignored him.
I tried not to watch my elderly Father and his drunken
witch wife totter off towards the airport.
"Yew are harsh!" Said Mal and he sounded shocked,
approving mind, but still shocked.
Patrick didn't look back.
"Oh crap!" I jumped out of the car and legged it after
them, aware of how ridiculous I looked and how
bad I felt inside.
"Pa!" I grabbed his arm, his ice-blue eyes sparkled:You
are still a filthy murdering arsehole, but....I love you!
Don't be a stranger huh?"
"Come with me." He said quietly:"New start for all
of us."
"Nah. Can't. Commitments and all." I smiled.
"Well I think.." Said Catherine, but we both shushed her.
"I'll be in touch. Such a pretty girl." Said Patrick and
stroked my face. I felt this awful glug in my chest
that threatened to have me weeping, snotty like a five
year old. I kissed him, wetly, hopelessly, I'd only had
him five minutes!
After awhile Catherine pulled him away.
I felt better.
Then I got in the car with the Fuckwit guys, oh
lordy.
Fucking handbags at dawn.
"Whatever you say, whatever you do, nothing will
fix this mess." Said Alan.
"Know what Al? I don't care, let it ride, let it be.
Whatever." Alan Hmmphed, I gave him icy
shoulders.
I texted Angie. 'WHAT'S UP IN LESBOLAND?'

I grinned, Mal laughed as he drove singing (badly)
Angels by Robbie Williams in the style of Billy
Connelly.
Alan made Charles Manson look right friendly.
A hitchhiker would piss his pants to be picked
up by us!

Becka M