EARLY MORNING: It is a chilly and overcast fall morning in a small town. A old silver Volvo sedan putters around the formal square in front of the town's antique middle school building.
DRIVER'S POV: The driver, a father with four children in the car, eases toward the side of the drive, slowing to let two of the children out beside the bandroom--a classroom built underneath the stands of the venerable old stadium. A van is parked perpendicular to the sidewalk, right at the steps the children usually use to mount the sidewalk. In front of the driver, a woman, walking toward him in the street.
DESCRIPTION OF WOMAN: Fiftiesh, approximately spherical, or maybe something of a rounded cube, or possibly the shape 600 pounds of wet sand would be if dropped from a height of 3 feet. Wearing a bright orange jogging suit, and orange visor pulled down low over tiny, piggish eyes. Likewise, has snout and jowls to match eyes. Woman walks with great energy, although without nearly so much forward motion as would be suggested by the energy expended.
DRIVER POV: Driver hesitates slightly as he continues to slow, noticing that the woman in front of him seems to want to continue walking directly into his path. He veers slightly toward the sidewalk and then back out slightly so that the front fender of the car clears the van parked perpendicular to the steps.
WOMAN: Her original pathway, which would have taken her in front of the bumper of the van, is now cut off. She scowls angrily at the Volvo and driver, and seems flummoxed by this intrusion in her path. Shakes head and continues to scowl, as if she is cannot believe anyone would ever use a street to drive upon, nor have the temerity to pull an automobile in front of her. Applying right full rudder, she manages to alter the path of her massive bulk and continues her morning routine of gouging divots in the asphalt as she heaves to and fro. As she passes the side of the Volvo, she studiously maintains her forward gaze, with imperious disdain for the impertinent driver and his beastly vehicle.
DRIVER: Sensing that he might have angered this poor woman, and ever-mindful of various admonitions heard while watching nature programs on television about how dangerous angry water buffalos can be, he maintains careful eye contact with the woman as she walks by, hoping against hope she will turn his way.
At the very last moment, the woman turns her piggish eyes and upturned snout toward the driver to cast one final haughty and hateful glance his way.
Driver smiles broadly, and gives a vigorous, childlike wave of his hand.
Woman quickly turns back forward and gives one more disgusted shake of head before wallowing on toward the corner.
Driver dissolves into peals of laughter.
FADE TO BLACK.
EPILOGUE: Look, you ugly old battle axe--there's sidewalks all over the flippin' town--USE THEM--and quit walking in the road as if you own it. Yes, I realize you're the size of one of those small Hummers they have out now, but if you insist on pretending to be a truck, AT LEAST GO THE RIGHT DIRECTION.
Posted by Terry Oglesby at November 16, 2005 10:31 AM