Momnesia

Granny's purse

I was having a hard day - “hormone intoxication,” I suppose, since nothing was really wrong - and I had to go to the mall. I don’t like the mall, but I had to go pick up wedding-related crap. It was raining like hell and when I got back to the front, it was raining even harder, if it’s possible, and I paused to marvel at the sky and open the umbrella.

I was fumbling with the snap when some little FUCKER - must have been all of 14 years old - ran up and tried to snatch it away from me! I mean, he didn’t go after my purse, which might have been worthwhile. No. He wanted my umbrella.

My finger was hooked in the handle or it would have slipped into his undeserving little claws. Instead, I yanked back, and he didn’t let go! He tried to yank it away from me, but I twisted it and managed to pull it from him. I was seeing red. I swung the umbrella at him, and hit him on the shoulder. He looked mildly surprised, and then contemptuous.

Oh, reeeeeally? Well, take that! I smacked him again. And THAT! I swung at his ribs, but he barely blocked it with his forearm. I wasn’t done. I swung again in the other direction, this time at his exposed back, striking home. I saw him flinch. I. Smelled. Blood. I swung again. And again. Then I realized I was shouting at him.

“I’m five - (smack!) - months - (thwack) - pregnant, you little fuck! What - (pow!) the fuck (kapow!) - is wrong with you?!”

He fended me off with his arms and hands, and for a split second it looked like he was thinking about taking a swing at me. I flipped the umbrella around and swung at his head with the handle. He ducked, stumbled once, and skitted back, mildly frightened. Then he loped off into the parking lot, looking chagrined, and a little confused.

I stopped, panting, clutching my stomach. I was furious, and slowly my vision cleared. I noticed, suddenly, that people were looking at me. They weren’t friendly. They were more like “someone call the police, there’s a crazy woman loose at the mall” kind of looks. I considered defending myself, but instead I mustered what was left of my dignity, smoothed my hair back from my Cro-Magnum forehead, snapped open my umbrella, and pranced off through the storm.