Apologies for the delay in posting, I was tweaking this one to get it just right. I had to go slightly over the word count to tell the story I wanted to tell, but I gave myself a pass this week because I enjoyed where the story was going.
This weeks randomly generated theme is:
A taxi is the location, pride is the theme. A mobile phone is an object that plays a part in the story.
Ok, so here goes:
I’m next. I’m hoping for a young woman, not because I’m a pervert, but because they give me the least hassle. The door opens to reveal a middle aged man in a suit. He looks at me and says, “Oh great. Doooo yooouuuuu sppeeeaaakkkkk Ennnggglliiissshhh?”
I sigh. I speak five languages fluently, three of which he’s never heard of. I nod and he gives me an address in the financial district. I mentally calculate the best route and set off. His phone rings, “Speak…..No I told you, axe the entire division…..not some of it, not most of it, all of it…….who gives a shit about the long service employees, they should have earned more than $12 million profit…..hold on a second.” He turns to me and barks, “Where are you going?”
“I’m sorry sir?”
“Main street is quickest, why are you taking Division?”
“There are roadworks on Main street sir.”
“Bullshit. You’re trying to run me up. I’m ordering you to take Main street.”
He goes back to his phone, “I’m back, fucking cabbie is trying to rip me off. I want you to report him, 14683 – Baldeep Singh. Anyway, I’ve re-apportioned their pension money to cover the Q1 deficit, so tell them their pensions were lost in the market crash or some shit like that.”
I turn on to Main street and hit standing traffic. I listen to this man droning on, ruining thousands of lives like it is nothing at all. I grit my teeth and try to tune him out.
We finally reach the address. I say, “Thank you sir. That is $27.50.” He throws me a twenty, “That’s all I am paying, and you’re lucky you’re getting that.”
I want to argue, but I know his sort. He hops out of the car without waiting for my response. I’m about to pull away when I notice his phone on the back seat. I grab it and run after him, catching him just before he goes inside. I hand him the phone and say, “I’m sorry sir, you dropped this.”
There’s a flash of surprise and guilt, but it’s quickly masked, “I’d have thought the likes of you would have stolen it.”
“No sir, unlike you I am not a thief, a liar or a cheat.”