Justice

Bryan Hale gnashed his teeth in silent, acute anger.  His foot squeezed the brake pedal onto the floor of his Toyota Corolla. He idled.  Bryan waited impatiently as the world’s slowest man seemed to shuffle hesitantly toward his car.  The old man’s shopping cart was as full as the parking lot.  Lord knew how long it would take to unload his damn basket. 

There was nowhere he had to be, but Bryan was in a hurry.  Well not really a hurry, waiting was just miserable.  He could lurk up and down each row of cars in search of the elusive good parking spot, but his decision had been made.  But would the old man and his Mercury Cougar cooperate? 

So, he grinned through clenched teeth.  He wanted to shout obscenities but that would betray his rage.  He needed to keep his cool.  Keep his composure.  There would be no aura of tumult escaping his Toyota that day, oh no!  He would remain steadfast in his phony calm demeanor.  While Bryan did whet his indignation in his mind’s eye, none of the other customers would know it.  To them he was another lazy overweight guy wasting gas and time for a good parking spot.  But his true feelings were always tenebrous.  Something sinister but hidden.  Others always saw Bryan as harmless.  A little puppy in the body of a big guy.  Hodor with brains.  And he was, but in his head, he was a bomb.  So much kinetic energy wrapped in an unassuming package. 

He saw others as felons, folks that broke his laws.  They weren’t looking out for his best interest.  He saw this as a sort of gross misconduct of humanity.  How dare these offenders trespass upon his desire to Just. Get. There. Already? It was downright shameful.  One day they’d get what was coming. 

He waited. 

The old man slammed the trunk of his Mercury and drove off in his champagne colored chariot.  Bryan pulled into the spot.  He locked the car and strolled into the grocery store with purpose.  He was in no rush, but did not like to dilly dally.  It took less than ten minutes to get his list.  Fiber cereal, soy milk, a quart of egg substitute, and raw almonds.  He was overweight and wanted to change that. 

And so, he marched to his Corolla, bags of groceries in hand.  In his peripheral vision as he unloaded his goods into the trunk, he saw a young woman in a Camry waiting for him.  She wanted his spot.  But he wouldn’t just give it away so quickly.  Where is the justice in that?  He toiled for that spot.  It was his spot.  He bided, impatiently perhaps, but he bided his time with his blinker on indicating the gravity of his want for that spot.  She was too lazy to signal her desire, bad etiquette on her part should not be rewarded. 

So, as she stared at Bryan impatiently hoping he’d hurry the hell up, he slowed down.  That lazy girl should just keep going.  She wouldn’t rush him.  Screw her.  Bryan took his sweet time.  He reached into his back seat for trash that he’d been meaning to throw out.  He tossed it in the trash can at a nearby cart corral and got back in his car.  He popped the car slowly in reverse and backed out.  Once in drive he coasted a moment and smiled as he squeezed down on the accelerator.  He was proud of himself.  What was her rush?  Who was she to rush him?  She’ll get what was coming one of these days.