Fuzzball
A short “fiction”
Mindfulness.
Some people are beginners and some people have never even heard of it.
So I’m mindfully gliding along on the tarmac in my Astra at a meditative speed, friction balancing out the downhill acceleration, my rainbow fuzzball quietly on the rearview mirror, when suddenly this FAT COCKROACH with obese Pirellis flies into my face.
“Watch my chrome, you moron!” as I show my amalgam and my skill in sign language.
I count backward to zero, one eye on the fuzzball. My daughter put it there, surely inspired by those Christmas tree air fresheners. Aren’t those for people with Subarus? I’m not sure.
Minutes later I pull into the packed supermarket parking lot. Jeezz, what?! Is it PAYDAY? Lucky me, a vacant spot! I navigate with clear intentions, my signal out. But a MOLDY OMELET blind as a bat and flowers for a hat puzzles her way into my space. Does she think this is the Tuesday drive-in braille-bingo? It’s Monday! I apologize to the fuzzball and start circling around in a holding pattern. Hey, keep that kid on a leash! Where is even the mother?
As I make my way through the revolving door, it’s the flower hat again, bottlenecking the entrance. Right, Bingo again! This one is going to block me all the way to the checkout, and then again in the parking lot. At least the bananas will be ripe by the time I get home.
We’re hopefully more balanced than the protagonist, but don’t you ever think “idiot!”, as you encounter people so oblivious?
Wide-bodiedly they strategically stand in your way. “Excuse me?” is met with a barely perceptible shuffle and you have to squeeze by, unable to avoid physical contact, while they carry on with their coze, right in the middle of the meat department.
Do you have a fuzzball?
Originally published at suite.io.
