"Don't ever marry, just fuck em and leave em". He spat bitter bile as he spoke and ended with a emphatic flourish by swigging his coke, no doubt it was his second or third of the morning. Maybe he was sponsored by the joyous brand, 'Enjoy Coke' I thought 'Sweetness for a life less bitter'.
Here I was at six thirty in the morning, still with sleep crud encrusted eyes and early morning pollution starting to fill my Big Smoke lungs and this stranger was offering me his pearls and words of wisdom. I'd barely said good morning to the behemoth before he casually
tossed me head first into the grim shit-storm that was his life. Colourful language mixed with strong opinions created technicolour imagery that played out in the back of my early morning mind. What a prick. What a cabbie. That's right, whilst everyone has their own theories on how to put the world to rights, cabbies are easily the most vocal with strangers. They even put the riotous North Africans and Greeks to shame when it comes to telling people how to run things. 'The Greek riots, brought to you by Coca Cola' I thought 'Stay cool with a hot head'.
I sat there in the back of the cab with my eyes shut, was I fake sleeping? How pathetic, pretending to sleep? Really? I actually wanted to look out the window, it was a crisp sunny start to the day but it was my last resort to stop hearing the driving, fat-fingered Gruffalo's woes. I'd previously made some other feeble attempts to silence his onslaught, a fake yawn here, mentioning how tired I was there. I stared through the window and through the streets into my own mind. I had tried ignoring the odd question but feeling too rude too ignore them all I occasionally answered with a monosylabic grunt in the affirmative. He took another swig of his Cola. How pathetic was I? Why couldn't I just ask for some peace and quiet, I was pathetically and politely English. How depressing, I was obviously reaching a new low. I felt that clouding, static like fuzz of inner hatred wash over me as I rummaged around in my bag for my pre-packed lunch. 'Coca Cola' I thought as I felt the coolness of the tin on my fingers, and as I drank from its sharp metal hole 'Briefly quench your self loathing'.
After I'd had a few more unhealthy swigs I let out a loud airy 'Ahhhhhhh' worthy of 1980s advertisments. "So you're not lucky with women then?" I asked. I was being even more English than before and humouring him despite now my own bitterness. 'Coca Cola' I thought 'Sweetness for a life less bitter'.