The Terrible Thought of a Kamikaze Carrot

Post CXXVII

Here’s the story of umbrella, shouting, and haddock.

I don’t know if you’ve ever been beaten up with an umbrella by a little baby, but it is, without doubt, one of the most miserable moments of my life. His constant giggling didn’t help. Nor did his grandparents who were ignoring him. I don’t think they were from the school of ‘the child will be alright if we leave him alone’, popular amongst parents these days, but more of the school of ‘we’ve literally given up – he will not behave’. That’s simply no excuse to give up. He was whacking me on the noggin’! Tell him off! What could I do? If I took the umbrella off him, he’d start crying. I did contemplate opening the umbrella and then giving it back to him in the hope he’d fly away. But, obviously, that is quite wrong. I mean, what kind of idiot risks opening an umbrella indoors?

The umbrella scenario left me in a state best described as ‘slightly agitated’. I did what any self-respecting citizen would do. I told the little pumpkin to behave in a stern voice. He was tiny. Not much older than 10 months. Possibly younger. Adorable little face. What did he do? Behave? Or stand up to authority by playing that age-old baby trick. Puppy eyes. Right at me. It nearly broke my heart. But I was defiant. Damn it, if a man cannot sit on a bus without being umbrella assaulted, what can a man do? It was unfair, dagnabbit. I reiterated. “No – that’s naughty”. His tears and screaming nearly deafened me. I know we live in an age when you can’t shout at children, but they can be very annoying, so I don’t care. I want to bring it back. Fair enough, it’s correct we can’t hit them anymore. But if I want to shout at one for a legitimate reason, I bloody will. I don’t care how adorable you are. My head hurts. Sod off.

“Aww, he’s a just a baby, leave him alone”, you’re all saying. HE WAS HITTING ME WITH AN UMBRELLA AND TAUNTING ME! IT WASN’T FUNNY, READERS! I had one of those headaches you get from the extreme cold of winter and there he was. A little nuisance. A little nuisance who was so much of a nuisance his grandparents had taken to ignoring him! You need to discipline children. If he’d had a little teddy bear, I’d have taken it off him and ripped its head off. I’d then start laughing at him. See how he likes it. Oh, but no, this is ‘cruel’. WELL, WHAT ELSE AM I SUPPOSED TO DO! The little bastard was doing my head in. Literally! WITH A FLIPPING UMBRELLA!

I know what you’re thinking, readers. ‘Ally, you must be more tolerant. He is just a little baby. I know he’s being an incredibly annoying little hooligan, but biting his teddy’s head off is a step too far. Put yourself in his shoes’. What a ridiculous thought. I’m a size ten. His shoes would hardly fit. And I also know what else you’re thinking. ‘For the love of God, never have children’. Oh, I agree. It’s the last thing I want. Really. I’d take being kicked in the joy department over having children…

I got back on the bus later that day. I was in town doing the usual. Taking photos with aplomb. What an awful word that is. Aplomb. It literally means, in its native French, ‘according to plumb’. I presume it doesn’t mean the fruit. That would mean talking fruit and vegetables have taken over the world. Which is a lot more terrifying than it sounds. Just imagine the terrible thought of being attacked by a kamikaze carrot.

It didn’t start well. I banged my head on a low bar I didn’t see. I’m sure it was in cohorts with the baby. The seats at the front of the bus are priority seats for the elderly, the disabled and prams. But the bus was full and those seats were empty. So I sat on one with the provision that I would stand if needs required. The seats do fold up. There was an empty seat next to me running lengthways, and two facing forwards at the end of the aforementioned lengthways seats. They had two people sitting in them. This bay was quite shallow and the room between the wall on my right and the legs of the passengers on my left was only a few feet.

A woman came on the bus. With a pram. The seating arrangement I found myself in was mirrored on the opposite side, but was deeper and a tad longer. That pram was a few feet wide but the mother would have had to stand if she had put it in the bay I was sitting in, not to mention the fact that the pram would’ve jutted out into the gangway causing a hazard. So the woman sat on the side opposite to me and took a seat. A bit of a squeeze and a bit awkward, but obviously, no human being alive could conceivably imagine the arrangement fitting into where I was sitting. The woman took her seat. All nice and logical. But, her nearest passenger was far from happy. Here’s, loosely, what she said. The ‘he’ is me.

“Oh, I suppose HE won’t stand. Typical youth. Pathetic aren’t they? Don’t do anything for anyone anymore. What a BLANKING BLANK. Can’t believe that. You’re a mother with our future in your hands and he just doesn’t care. Absolutely disgusting. How awful. Quite simply the worst thing I have ever seen”.

She was at least 70. That would’ve made her two when World War 2 ended. Oh great, I’m worse than Hitler. I was really shaken. I’m still shaken, I can’t believe that happened. I’m adorable. I was genuinely close to tears. That woman looked really sweet, too. Pardon my coarse language, but what an unbelievably nasty old haddock.

Do you see it? I was just like that baby. Getting shouted at by a miserable old hag. I’m fully expecting you to think I’ll give an apology to that little baby. Not a chance. I learnt nothing. That baby was deliberately trying to infuriate me. To provoke a reaction to make his grandparents shout at me, which they did, and to get hugs and sweets off them for his ‘traumatic’ experience. People don’t believe babies are that manipulative and scheming. Trust me, they totally are. But I had done nothing to deserve the abuse of that old woman. So what is the moral of the story?

Well, use your judgment. Try not to be affected by things that aren’t your fault. And of course, the biggest moral, don’t be afraid of babies. There’s nothing wrong with ripping the head of their favourite teddy bear.

The police might not see it that way, but remember, you take the moral victory.

And that’s all that matters.

American writer, Jarod Kintz (b. 1982), once said: “I could tell by their audible gasps that the people on the beach were jealous of me when I found five sharks teeth. Locating them wasn’t really the problem, but pulling them out of my leg was”.

Peace Out :|:


I’d love to hear your thoughts on this post. You can leave a comment and/or like this post below, or by clicking the little bubble on the top right if you are on the Archives Page. Likes and follows greatly appreciated. Thanks.


Please feel free check out the latest posts from my other two blogs:

To Contrive & Jive
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here To Read The Latest Post

Hark Around The Words
New Posts Every Monday, Wednesday and Friday
Click Here To Read The Latest Post


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