Monday 20 April 2009

 

How Was I Supposed To Get That Then?

Three guys swagger up the street. Its dark now, nearly 10pm on this Saturday night. One walks ahead, the other two behind. One in a white sports shirt, the other two in black. All with track suit bottoms and branded trainers. They have a football. The short with the glasses gives it a kick, too hard. The other guy in black stops in his tracks, removing the plastic spoon from his mouth, holding the cardboard cup of fast food chain ice cream in front of him and looks at his friend, then at the ball. The whole look says “how was I supposed to get that then?” The guy in white gets the ball, but instead of kicking it back, he kicks it forward, much, much harder. The three of them watch, mouths open, whispers of “shit!” as it goes arcing over the heads of people in the street, and they wait to see who it will hit. Instead it batters off the display window of one of the mobile phone shops, bouncing back hard and hitting the pavement with a thump. The guy in white bursts in to a trot, going after the ball to get it back before they get into any more trouble.

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