I Punched an Old Woman

So, I was sat on the metrolink, which is my preferred method of transport, and I was reading the newspaper, as you do on the metro. I had one leg over another leg, not touching the seat, but in a sublimely relaxed and comfortable position. I guess I was taking advantage of the fact that no-one was sat next to me, and I was also ensuring that no-one sat next to me until it was completely necessary.

Some old woman stands beside me.

“Do you have to have this seat taken?” she snaps, indicating to the seat near my foot. Not really fucking taken, I thought. A simple ‘excuse me’ would’ve done, you bitchy old bitch.

“Ehr, no,” I say. “Sorry.” I put my leg down and carry on reading the paper.

She then proceeds to lean over and wipe the seat aggressively, like I have hepatitis on my foot – which wasn’t even on the bloody seat. You fucking shrivelled old prune. I’m glad that you’ll probably be dead far earlier than me, and I’m glad you had to go through capital punishment, 2 world wars, not being able to vote, and Queen Victoria’s entire reign.

For the rest of the journey, I fantasised about standing up and swinging at her, right in the middle of a crowded tram compartment, and really laying in to this ancient woman. If it was a 14-year-old, I thought, I would’ve probably started something – why not different for an old woman? I was surprised at how hard it was to suppress my urges to mash in the twisted and contorted face of this shrivelled, pickled, incontinent bitch.

Eventually, she got off. Unfortunately, it was my stop too, so I followed her. I was walking in front of her, and she trod on the heel of my boot. Immediately, I span around and punched her, square in the jaw. I felt her whiskers against my clenched fist, and watched her collapse into the air and spin, in the middle of the tram station. As she fell, her head cracked against the floor, a small spray of blood streaked across the cement and over my nazi boots, and a blood bubble came from her mouth. She really fucking hit the deck – it was a loud ‘smack’, side on, a few cracks that may have been her ribs, as if I care. A large bruise had formed on her chin, and, in an almost comical fashion, her false teeth had flew out of her mouth and lay forlornly cracked after skimming across the ground.

Witnesses were EVERYWHERE. And I was laughing – c’mon, if you did it, you’d think it was pretty funny, too.

I pulled down my balaclava and fucking legged it.