Promptly penned flash fiction! It’s June and I’m taking it as, you probably know what this is about now and no longer need an introduction. This week is using the prompt:
Person A: “How long have you been standing there?”
Person B: “Longer than you’d like.”
The ladies participating are:
Please enjoy, Asshat Parking
A Ford Excursion is already a behemoth of a vehicle, why not lift the fuck out if it. It might be a slight exaggeration to say the tires are bigger than my reasonable compact designed car engineered for optimal city driving. But “exaggeration” itself could be the most appropriate word for my experience. I would make a bet that if I asked the owner of this confederate flag emblazoned oversized processed food grocery getter why the truck was lifted to a staggering, and clearly illegal height, I would get an answer laced with profanities and racism.
“I like em tall, easier to plow over those mother fucking slow ass piece of shit cars on the freeway. You know the ones, going under the speed limit and packed to the fucking gills with wet backs. You know, If they’d learned their English, maybe they go the speed limit.”
Let me make a statement before I continue on: I’m completely okay with profanities.
But if we’re also going to discuss stereotypes, I think this red neck pot might be calling the immigrant kettle black. And just as well, I might be too. I’m making a judgement call on the person parked like an asshat in front of my favorite Chinese place. Big truck, confederate sticker, two tires settled on one side of the parking space and another two tires in another. Sure, the wheels aren’t even remotely straight and the eyesore is parked at an angle even Euclid would find intriguing. Maybe, just maybe, once I step inside I’ll find the owner to this truck is not at all what I envisioned.
“Hey! Sweetheart. I want my regurar.”
“Yes. Sweet and sour? Crab rangoon?”
The lady was large, both in height and girth. Her hair was pulled back into a tight greasy bun. The frequency of this hair style was often based on the advanced traction alopecia around her face. Her stance was confident. She kept her shoulders rolled back, leaned with her elbow on the counter as she kicked up one dirty flip flopped foot over the other.
“Yes. Crab rangoons. You know I always get them. Not sure why you are asking. You got to work on those listening skills.”
“Yes.” The girl nodded. “10 to 15 minute.”
“Minutes. We don’t say ‘minute’ we say ‘minutes’ because there is more than one. Don’t they learn you that before coming over?”
I closed my eyes and chanted to myself while imagined my heels clicking together, please don’t be a stereotype, please don’t be a stereotype, please don’t be a stereotype…
“Teach.” Her voice was soft and clear.
Opening my eyes I see the girl behind the counter straight faced and holding herself ridged enough to seem ten feet taller than she really was. “The word is ‘teach’. You meant to ask, do they teach you before you come over. No. We do not all have such opportunities. We do learn politeness. Do you they learn you politeness here?”
“I have been a customer here for five years and you don’t get to talk to like that.”
“No. This is my business and you do not be rude to me weekly for five year. Please. Leave.” The girl holds out her hand in gesture to the door.
“No. Leave. Goodbye.”
“You fucking chinks have shitty food anyways! I can get cat from somewhere else. I don’t need your service. I don’t need this shitty place. Get fucked.” The woman throws up her middle finger into the girls face before walking out. She attempted to slam the door behind her but the pneumatic feature prevents the door from going farther than a fraction of an inch. Rather than the dramatic crash she was going for, the door just lightly hissed as it gradually closed behind her.
“Oh!” The girls eyes widen. “How long you been standing there?”
“Longer than you’d like.” I said. “But that was amazing and let me tell you, I’m so glad I got to see it.”