Damsel called Distress

High on life- no light of  artificial sight.

I know what I will do if I ever get mugged.

I will look  my mugger right in the  forehead and say I can see the emergence  of his  third eye.

His monobrow will wriggle in confusion.

Then, I will 1970’s kung fu him in the balls – He will be blubbering. This is my first chance to demonstrate my self-choreographed, self-defence,dance class,get fit for life infusion.

I’ll grab my bag and wallop him once or twice.

I’m not condoning violence,but I get the feel for it , I’m grooving, putting my own spin on it . So he rolls with the punches and I  carry on rolling my dice.

Then when I feel we are on an even keel . I’ll stretch out my arm, give him a hand up. Hell, I will even get down on one bended knee.

The  score will be  settled and even.

That is what you get, mate, for attempted thieving.

Panic alert flashes across  my eyes. I didn’t know  Mr potential mugger had another job. He’s a  rather talented actor – he is making me believe he is actually bleeding.

Wait a few seconds – look left -look right -look left again . Got to keep my wits about me. Road safety training might seem elementary  but it can be a life saver.

Seconds turn into the longest minute ever documented. I don’t think he is an amateur . In fact, I’m checking for signs of  a well-known face; not some chip off the old block. I can hear the other  stars calling out for their missing, celebrity neighbour.

Things are starting to turn grave. I’m the one who was in true danger.

Superheroes, do they exist?

I need one pronto – bring a carpet -we have a John Doe to roll up and we need a  couple of spades and all of  the aces .    I need a super  professional with a zany twist .

Moments  pass. My superhero   hasn’t pitched up , he must have run out of gas.

I’m on the run  with an imaginary gun – this is not fun. He started it. What an ass!

“Oh why hello,officer, I know what this looks  like. Yes, I am running” mentally exercising my train of thought.

“Hit and run?”

“I don’t drive officer .  So can we skip the walk in a straight line, touch my nose and rub my belly and get  to the part where we both laugh about this situation.” We may end up in a quaint bar .

The one  that sells all the good rum.

My mind is working overtime. Think! Think!  What would any civil, well to do , ordinary , civilian lady do in my circumstance?

“Now, officer . I think we can have a bit more fun with those cuffs.  Got any fur? oh, how I love to purr.”  I’ll  lean over just so he can clock  my cleavage.     Hey, this could work! Have you got any better ideas?

This may be my only chance.

“Ma am ,Are you trying to  to poodle face with me?”

“Me? I don’t even  own a dog. Are you trying to call  me a bitch? Now that is offensive.” I was merely using my right to freedom of expression.

My wits tell me to back the fuck down. He is jangling what sounds like more than one key.

He reads me  my rights. I tell I’m catholic.  I  ring  God daily, no messing with Angel administration. I   have him on speed dial to atone for my sins.

Now this – this is unjust. All this fuss. What happened to good cop , bad cop scenario ?

All I’m seeing is the end of his boot and my own reflection in his riot  helmet gear. Have I been transported into some retro game and swallowed a mushroom and turned into super -uber Mario?

Granted, he is a shitty plumber. But, he  does get to  collect plenty of coins. Maybe I can bail me out .I don’t need no man to rescue me . I am the victim and the surviving princess.

I get the feeling the only  jangling I am going to do is when I walk the line. Stub my toe. I think my entitled title just got ripped off me.

Scoundrel. It was that mugger that’s got me in this  stitch . I’ve been demoted to a rather fatigued and distressed seamstress.

Moral of the story?

Don’t go acting like those sensational  media  heroes.

Just let your entire shit go- JUST.LET. IT.ALL.GO.

And tomorrow  you willl wake up  not in  a cell but smiling into your favourite stripy  bowl  of cheerios.

*inspired by absolute nonsense. I’m feeling silly, happy, I thought I would write something happy! Is this even happy? Ive  just hit publish  and hope for the best.* 



37 thoughts on “Damsel called Distress

  1. i am thy ritual so fucking habitual
    sat am is for pepper and some zep
    you say treasure and measure
    i say yes but
    in a rather quiet
    quaint way
    cos we live in an instant karmatic
    nobody cares
    nor shares
    the vital
    gists of life
    so be
    and like
    the sky bird
    free to shit
    and fertilize

    Liked by 1 person

    • T Y Charlie. Yeah, it’s so easy to write about the shit stuff but there iis more to a person than what happens to them. It was so much fun being in such a silly mood and take that energy and being able to express in words. I’m glad you enjoyed. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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