Issue 10
Pure
Allen McGill
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Poor Me
"Myra, that's pure nonsense." The massive police officer looked
down at her, hands on his hips.
"You don't understand," the fragile-looking old
lady said, somewhat indignantly. "I had every intention of paying for those
items. I just stepped outside the store to see what they'd look like in the
sunshine. Then when the cab pulled up..."
"Oh, come now." The officer sighed. "The jewelry was in your
purse. Kinda hard to see them in the sun in there, ain't it?" He shook his head.
"You've been a naughty girl again, haven't you, Myra?"
"I have not been a naughty girl...maybe a little forgetful.
But that store detective had no right grabbing me like he did, making such a
ruckus in front of all those people." Her lower lip protruded in a pout. "He
hurt my arm. I think the store owes me an apology. And regardless of what you
think, officer, I am the victim here, not the store."
"Poor you," the officer responded, sounding bored. "Well, let's
get a move on. You can complain to the victims' compensation board, again. Say,
you really should think of a better story, this one's getting a little
shopworn.
~Allen McGill
Originally from New York City; now writing, acting, directing in
Mexico. Many articles, essays, stories, haiku, reviews, etc., published: New
York Times, Newsday, The Writer, Heron's Nest, MD. Email.
© 2002 by Allen McGill. All Rights Reserved.
© Copyright 2002 by Cayuse Press. All Rights Reserved.
This page updated December 23, 2002.