September 13, 2013 by The Sweetest Plum
On a rare trip to the post office, I spotted a small baby, wrapped in a blanket under the seat of a bus shelter. As no one else was around, apart from the seven or eight commuters in the bus shelter, I picked up the baby and cradled it in my arms with the strength and grace of a Greek God and quietly sang ‘For Once in my Life’ (not by Stevie Wonder, by me). I got a few funny looks from the people in the bus shelter but I just looked at them and said, “You didn’t do anything to fucking help it! Keep your judgments to yourself fuckheads.” “We were…” said a plain, young woman in some type of work outfit that may as well have been a uniform. “Look at the ground” I said, “Look at the fucking ground.” I looked back to the baby. It smelt like shit. Not actual shit, but it smelt bad and I had to pull back from leaning in to kiss its forehead. “Jesus Christ!” I said, rearing back like a startled cobra, “this stray fucking infant reeks!” I put the baby down on the seat next to an old ethnic woman whose entire purpose for existing appeared to be reminding us that women have body hair too. “Fuck off!” I yelled, “That stinks!” Pointing in the baby’s direction, I spat on the ground and walked up the street to the post office.
When I walked back down the steet passed the bus shelter, a painful ten minutes later, the bus had collected the cunting commuters and the bus shelter was empty. No baby to be seen. As if the whole stinking incident had never happened. So, like every afternoon, I set fire to the bus shelter and headed for the bottle shop.