It has been two hours since opening time, and the man in the trench coat is still there.
Skippy squints his solitary eye out at the distant figure concealed in the shade of a large oak tree for what seems like the fiftieth time in the past half-hour. Two things are obvious to Skippy – firstly, that the man is clearly here to spy on him, and secondly, that the man thinks he is completely hidden in plain sight. The entire scenario is almost comical to Skippy; like a terrible spy movie from bygone days. Yet a small part of him wonders – is he the only one at risk here? Or are the children he serves also part of this man’s surveillance?
“Is something wrong?” Skippy looks down to find the youngster he was last serving, looking up at the dripping ice cream cone in his hand with plaintive eyes. In concentrating on the strange watcher behind the tree, he had completely forgotten his primary job – serving ice cream.
Shaking himself out of his daze, he offers the scruffy youngster an apology and scoops him a fresh cone, dumping the melted one in the trash. He is never one for sparing expenses; it tends to drive away customers instead of keep them. He offers the boy a jovial goodbye, then quickly glances off into the distance before the line can move along. The man is still there.
What, does he want an ice cream too?! Skippy thinks to himself frustratedly.
The seemingly interminable line of children stretches on past the park. Skippy is going to be here for a long time more, and if he presumes correctly, so will this mysterious man. He doesn’t like that idea, not one bit. In his mind, he crosses the fine line between inaction and real, aggressive action. Although he supposes he could tone things down a little, for the children’s sake.
Reaching over, he plops his trusty ‘BE BACK IN TEN MINUTES’ sign atop the sill of the ice cream van and shoots the next customer an apologetic look. “I’m awfy sorry, little lass. Got some business t’ take care of just over there. Yer ice cream willnae be too long, though, I promise ya that.” He makes no indication as to where ‘just over there’ really is. If things get out of hand, as they normally do, then Skippy doesn’t want any children watching. If me life were a movie, it probably wouldnae be a PG-13 one.
The door to the van swings open with such force that it hits the vehicle’s metal body with a clang, startling a few kids. Skippy keeps his walk purposeful and his stride long, intending to exude the aura of confidence that one normally needs when conducting basic social affairs, such as meeting new people and then threatening them if they don’t leave you alone. The pink-and-white striped apron over his suit slightly subtracts from the whole tough guy aesthetic, but he knows he can make up for it in other ways.
“Oi,” he says, stopping right in front of the man with his hands on his hips. “Oi, you. Aye, it’s you I’m talkin’ tae. Look, I understand I’ve got a reputation ‘round these parts fer bein’ a handsome devil, but that doesnae mean ye can stand around me truck like some sorta stalker, aight? Now, if ye havnae got any real business with me, would ya kindly leave off?”
first impression: a beati, a beautful, a beautiful friend! lol ( NAH SRSLY THO I ALWAYS THOUGHT YOU WERE SUPER DOWN TO EARTH AND KNEW WHAT YOU WERE DOIN plus super sweet and a good sense of humour! )
!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! ////////////
SAZ IS TOO KIND !!!! thank u sm saz, means so much to me ily
