We are in a treatment room in a South London beauty parlour. A clock ticks drunkenly on the wall. SUE enters, wearing a black overall and a frown.
Sue: Right, up you hop on the couch.
Me: Hop?
Sue: Well, get up.
Me: OK.
Sue: Good girl.
Me: Hot isn't it. I'm sweating like a bastard.
Sue: Me too.
Silence. Sue administers painful treatment. I yelp, and sweat more. Sweat runs UP my nose. My left shoe falls off. The phone rings in the distance. Am ambulance goes by.
Me: Does it have to hurt this much?
Sue: Yes.
Some sweat falls from Sue's brow into my mouth.
Sue: Sorry.
Me: No problem.
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7 comments:
No problem?
NO FUCKING PROBLEM??
An old woman coughed onto the back of my neck on a bus once.
I felt moisture.
A srubbed at it in the shower for about an hour when I got home, narrowly avoiding becoming an old woman myself.
Because that is how it works.
Yeah but Sue was clean and that. And it was only sweat out of her head, not gob out of her mouth.
Hey Pup! Wondered where you'd got to xx
How do you know it was me? And it was only the same thing but with dreadful spelling mistakes too foolish to leave. Friday night you know.
Because comments come in as emails, and I deleted both yours before I read them in a moment of confusion, and all i remembered was 2 emails, 1 comment.
I'm a sad, sad, sad, sad, sad woman. With nothing to do.
Go to bed woman.
It'll seem better in the morning (it never does). But at least you'll have slept.
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