Moss
III
"Poppy, do you reckon I should buy this?"
It was a simple question he had asked, which inevitably required an answer. I stood there at the till. A grumpy cashier swiped my items, and roughly shoved them into a carrier bag one by one like each was the bane of his very existence. The bleeps kept sounding, as I analysed the situation. There he stood, that damn peculiar boy. In his hand was a box, a fairly large box that he awkwardly shook awaiting an answer.
The drive hadn't been too bad. He had been fairly quiet. I had asked him questions now and again and towards the end of the journey I had the radio on at full volume. I didn't think he had liked that, the loud ear splitting volume that is.
We had gotten a few stares at traffic lights, but other than that everything was swell. That is until the news decided to take over and after listening patiently to the news reader drone on about knife crime in the United Kingdom I switched the whole damn thing off, tired and quite frankly bored.
Alastair just wouldn't speak and when I looked over at him briefly to see what exactly he was doing, I found he was aspleep. The boy had gone to sleep on me.
I thought for only a moment longer, scrutinising the box in his hands which he lowered uncertainly, "Um, sure," I smiled, "I didn't know you were into stuff like that," nodding towards the box.
"What! It's not for me," he assured me, "I'm not into Barbie dolls and princesses and stuff"
"Mhm"
"I'm being serious," he spluttered, adding the box to the pile. The grumpy man looked directly at him, and glared. Alastair was oblivious, he just stood there beside me, attempting to convince me that the girly play set, with a free hair brush was not for him, "It's for my niece"
"You're imanginary niece I can only presume"
"No! My niece, I actually have a niece okay," silence, "You do believe me right?"
"Fine, I believe you"
"No you don't," Alastair muttered.
I wasn't supposed to hear him, that much I knew, as he grabbed three bulging carrier bags and made his way to the exit. I followed his, hands exempts of any bags. I'd notice one of the bags in Alastair's right hand about to tear and looked back at the cashier to see him glaring at his next costumer. I hadn't bought anything special; basic fruit and vegatables and then onto the good stuff, boxes of mircowaveable pizza's and chips.
I didn't own an oven in my shack, I refused to eat real food unless Ruby forced me to. Take this morning for example, I'd visited them late in the morning, after Alastair had left to allow me to dress myself, I'd seen the immense steam blaring from Ruby's kitchen and could hear to voice from the shack, shouting and screaming about how her home was a mess and that someone ought to help her.
I would have helped, but I was opposed to all things ... clean, tidy or perfect. My shack was the best example of that. Everything was everywhere! Chaos, manic and heaven all in one. Suddenly I was glad Ruby's son was with me. I may bring Alastair along shopping in the big supermarket more often. With a triumphant smiled, I stepped through the automatic sliding doors and walked absentmindedly to my car; right next the entrance of the supermarket. I was a very lazy person.
"Excuse me Officer, I, we can explain"
I lifted my head. Alastair spluttered and fumbled with the bags nervously. I took them from him, jammed by keys into the lock and turned. With a click the door opened and I shoved the bags into the back seats, closing the door and settling myself into the drivers seat.
"Alastair, get in"
I watched through the side mirror as he looked between the car and the police officer, clearing he was battling with his inner self as whether or not to listen to my commanded. I barked at him to hurry up.
He'd made his mind up then and rushed to get the door open. He breathed out in relief once he'd gotten in and nervously awaited the police officer to reprimand us.
The officers hard black shoes smacked against the ground loudly as he walked to the window. He pulled out a notepad, pursed his lips and scribbled with a black Berol pen. He cursed silently, when the ink ran out and jabbed at the notepad.
"Fucking fag of a pen," he looked down at me then and smiled, "You ought to get that fixed miss," he said, briefly pointing at the non-existent window with his pen. He cleared his throat and bent down leaning his arm across the top of the roof of the car.
"Ay, Savage get your arse in this car, we're going to be late," bellowed an odd looking man, popping his head out of the open window roof of a car, wearing extremely red lipstick, what looked to be fake eyelashes and an extremely lacy black bra - I owned one just like that one.
I smiled slyly, "Don't worry," I looked at his name tag and chuckled, "I'll see to it P.C. Pussy Platter"
And with a gasp from Alastair, I exited the car park of the supermarket and turned the radio on full blast once more.
It was a simple question he had asked, which inevitably required an answer. I stood there at the till. A grumpy cashier swiped my items, and roughly shoved them into a carrier bag one by one like each was the bane of his very existence. The bleeps kept sounding, as I analysed the situation. There he stood, that damn peculiar boy. In his hand was a box, a fairly large box that he awkwardly shook awaiting an answer.
The drive hadn't been too bad. He had been fairly quiet. I had asked him questions now and again and towards the end of the journey I had the radio on at full volume. I didn't think he had liked that, the loud ear splitting volume that is.
We had gotten a few stares at traffic lights, but other than that everything was swell. That is until the news decided to take over and after listening patiently to the news reader drone on about knife crime in the United Kingdom I switched the whole damn thing off, tired and quite frankly bored.
Alastair just wouldn't speak and when I looked over at him briefly to see what exactly he was doing, I found he was aspleep. The boy had gone to sleep on me.
I thought for only a moment longer, scrutinising the box in his hands which he lowered uncertainly, "Um, sure," I smiled, "I didn't know you were into stuff like that," nodding towards the box.
"What! It's not for me," he assured me, "I'm not into Barbie dolls and princesses and stuff"
"Mhm"
"I'm being serious," he spluttered, adding the box to the pile. The grumpy man looked directly at him, and glared. Alastair was oblivious, he just stood there beside me, attempting to convince me that the girly play set, with a free hair brush was not for him, "It's for my niece"
"You're imanginary niece I can only presume"
"No! My niece, I actually have a niece okay," silence, "You do believe me right?"
"Fine, I believe you"
"No you don't," Alastair muttered.
I wasn't supposed to hear him, that much I knew, as he grabbed three bulging carrier bags and made his way to the exit. I followed his, hands exempts of any bags. I'd notice one of the bags in Alastair's right hand about to tear and looked back at the cashier to see him glaring at his next costumer. I hadn't bought anything special; basic fruit and vegatables and then onto the good stuff, boxes of mircowaveable pizza's and chips.
I didn't own an oven in my shack, I refused to eat real food unless Ruby forced me to. Take this morning for example, I'd visited them late in the morning, after Alastair had left to allow me to dress myself, I'd seen the immense steam blaring from Ruby's kitchen and could hear to voice from the shack, shouting and screaming about how her home was a mess and that someone ought to help her.
I would have helped, but I was opposed to all things ... clean, tidy or perfect. My shack was the best example of that. Everything was everywhere! Chaos, manic and heaven all in one. Suddenly I was glad Ruby's son was with me. I may bring Alastair along shopping in the big supermarket more often. With a triumphant smiled, I stepped through the automatic sliding doors and walked absentmindedly to my car; right next the entrance of the supermarket. I was a very lazy person.
"Excuse me Officer, I, we can explain"
I lifted my head. Alastair spluttered and fumbled with the bags nervously. I took them from him, jammed by keys into the lock and turned. With a click the door opened and I shoved the bags into the back seats, closing the door and settling myself into the drivers seat.
"Alastair, get in"
I watched through the side mirror as he looked between the car and the police officer, clearing he was battling with his inner self as whether or not to listen to my commanded. I barked at him to hurry up.
He'd made his mind up then and rushed to get the door open. He breathed out in relief once he'd gotten in and nervously awaited the police officer to reprimand us.
The officers hard black shoes smacked against the ground loudly as he walked to the window. He pulled out a notepad, pursed his lips and scribbled with a black Berol pen. He cursed silently, when the ink ran out and jabbed at the notepad.
"Fucking fag of a pen," he looked down at me then and smiled, "You ought to get that fixed miss," he said, briefly pointing at the non-existent window with his pen. He cleared his throat and bent down leaning his arm across the top of the roof of the car.
"Ay, Savage get your arse in this car, we're going to be late," bellowed an odd looking man, popping his head out of the open window roof of a car, wearing extremely red lipstick, what looked to be fake eyelashes and an extremely lacy black bra - I owned one just like that one.
I smiled slyly, "Don't worry," I looked at his name tag and chuckled, "I'll see to it P.C. Pussy Platter"
And with a gasp from Alastair, I exited the car park of the supermarket and turned the radio on full blast once more.