Mea culpa, mea drunk.

There were five of us smoking cigarettes outside in the late May sun.
I’d only been working at the pub for three weeks but the punters were friendly and I was never short of company on my day off.
We were five white bellies on the park benches that dotted the beer garden.
Five white bellies plumped by too much beer and armchair sports.
I sipped at my pint and watched the planes above us, orbiting Heathrow airport.
The other guys told dirty jokes, I laughed, laughing even harder at the jokes that I didn’t like or understand.
Out of nowhere a car pulled up to a screeching halt, almost mounting the curb and clattering into us.
Behind the wheel was a woman, blonde, red lips, dark glasses….glorious.
There was a vacuum in the air above the table as we all sucked in those white bellies.
She leant heavily on the car’s horn and raised her middle finger at us.
Then she was gone.
She sped away leaving smoke hanging in the air and rubber melting on the road.
“What the fuck was her problem?” One of us asked.
“Rude bitch.” Said another.
We echoed macho abuse and all had a good chuckle.
“That was my wife.” Said the man sitting opposite me.
Nobody spoke. The smiles were all gone.
I distracted myself by reading the health warnings on my cigarette packet.
“Geez sorry mate.”
“I meant nothin by it you know.”
“Apologies pal.”
I too mumbled my mea culpa’s.
“S’alright lads.” He said, giving us all the finger.
“I think she meant to say ‘be home by one’.”


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