Final Destination

The rain batters against the windscreen whipping the wipers into a frenzy.

It’s a miserable night and I’m wishing I was driving with Miss Daisy

instead of this psycho.   

“Turn left in 300 yards”.

“You missed the turning you dumb $@&#!” 

“How dare you speak to me like that!”I respond in a shaky voice,clutching the steering wheel knuckles turning brilliant white.

We continue the drive down a blacked-out country road.  I’m already as jumpy as a cat on a hot tin roof when he lets rip with yet another string of expletives.

Rhymes with trucker

Blankety blank

Bleepety bleep

And just when I think I can’t take it anymore … we arrive at our final destination.  I pull over and look back at the kids with a pained expression.

Are you okay mum?” they ask trying to keep a straight face.

I nod grimly and hiss

“Who changed the Satnav”?

My head is throbbing and I eye the middle child suspiciously

“You dumb mother $@&#!!” 

[And he’s off again] 

 “Right” I snap absolutely furious “I’ve had about enough of you.”

By this time the kids have lost it completely and are cackling in the back like a pack of hyenas, so I reach over and whack Joe Pesci. 

Lisa Mary Armstrong lives in Scotland with her children.  She tutors law and researches women and children’s experiences of the criminal justice system.  In her spare time she enjoys reading and writing poetry and fiction and playing the piano.  You kind find her on twitter @earlgrey79_lisa nattering about poetry, law and other nonsense.

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