Static Life

Alone at a bus shelter sleeps an elderly vagrant. He has removed his trench coat and is using it as a makeshift pillow. Discarded newspapers have become his blankets. Below him is a toppled bottle of sherry from which alcohol oozes, forming a small puddle.

“Hideous.” Remarks Penelope “A real inconvenience to commuters.”

She sips champagne from a crystal glass then moves on.

Down a deserted road, ambles an elderly woman; towing a bulky trundler behind her. A woolen hat covers her ears and a thick scarf is wrapped round her neck. Her threadbare coat and holy-mittens seem inadequate protection from the harsh elements.

“Pathetic! She’s definitely no dedicated follower of fashion.”

She takes another sip then moves on.

Upon a window ledge stands a young executive clutching what appears to be a scribbled note. His glazed pupils study the city lights and passing traffic below. His back is firmly pressed against the pane but his legs are bent in a pre-leap attitude. A Saint Christopher’s medal hangs from the collar of his crimson business shirt.

“Tiresomely incompetent! He’s bound to lose the note on his way down.”

She takes another sip then moves on.

Against a lamppost leans an anorexic young woman tarring her lungs a smoldering cigarette. Her bleached hair is long and straggly and haggard face is heavily made up to hide the scars and premature wrinkles. The tight fitting leather apparel that she wears leaves little to the imagination and red marks on her left arm hint of a daily addiction.

“Pathetic! Her choice of such inferior cigarettes astounds me.”

She takes another sip then moves on.

Tears saturate the ashen face of a distressed child as a vicious looking street-kid boots the dusty seat of his ill-fitting jeans. Two other urchins rummage through the pockets of his torn jacket while another picks up scattered change from the pavement. Bloodstains lacquer his grubby tee shirt giving it an abstract appearance.

“Unruly brat! I pity the poor person who will have to wash his clothes afterwards.”

She takes another sip then moves on.

An empty hat sits by the blistered bare-feet of a scrawny girl as she lulls the Mega-Mall with piccolo melodies. Enthusiastic consumers bustle past with overloaded shopping carts as though she isn’t there, while wasteful gluttons discard half-eaten takeaway orders in rubbish bins. Standing at a safe distance an impish toddler faces her with his index fingers firmly wedged in his ears.

“Clueless! Who wants to listen to the piccolo? She’d be better off learning the guitar.”

She takes another sip then moves on.

Suspended silver airplanes bob from the ceiling above a curious baby. A proud father is playing “peek-a-boo” with a blue checkered tea towel while the doting mother deals with a soiled diaper. The baby kicks his chubby legs and claws the thin air with his pudgy little fingers.

Penelope drains the glass then reaches out and gently runs her palm along the solid oak framing.

“Yes. This one will do quite nicely.”

A silent-awe ascends the gallery.

“You like it?” asks the curator, incredulously.

“Yes, Gary and I have the very same type of tea towels at home and the soiled nappy reminds me of our marriage. I’ll take it.”

A suited waiter disposes of her empty glass while she writes out a sizeable check.

“I can’t express in words just how honoured I am that a person of your stature should consider buying one of my paintings.” Affirms Julius offering her his hand after the deal had been done. “It’s like a dream come true.”

She feels the oak frame once more before turning to the proud artist and smirking sinisterly.

“Yes, just the right size and weight to hit Gary over the head with, once he returns from that so called business holiday. And as for that floozy-secretary of his…well I’d best be getting to the hardware store before it closes.”

Ends Here