Things people say on the street (Street story 1)

One night

I was walking on the street

Going to meet my friend.

It was dusk,

I was on the phone to my mum and she was telling me something

I cant remember what it was,

But it wasn’t good.

My face must’ve showed – it does that.

I saw three men, or maybe four

In a group, standing by a street sign in a circle,

Talking.

I kept walking,

I was talking too.

Both talking,

Me walking.

“Miserable bitch” one said

“Oh Fuck off ” I said. “What’s it got to do with you?”

This is why I don’t like going out.

Someone could’ve been dead for all they knew.

Not like they gave a shit – they just wanted to show they disapproved of my face I assume.

Why should I have to be on guard all the time?

If that couple hadn’t been on the other side of the road, I mightn’t have shouted back.

I was glad I had flat shoes on, could’ve made a run for it if I had to.

Knobhead John (Awful habit that – butting in)

An old man

In the pub

Interrupted the sanctity of the booth

To say what a bad habit doing my hair was.

Turd.

Mind your own beeswax.

I’m not saying anything about your seventeen earrings or your dandruff crumb,

And why would I?

You’re not the commentator of the pub John.

Oh look, John’s got something to say –

You’d probably look good in a stale chair,

Heavily breathing your yellow breath into the microphone.