How not to park your car

“Maybe I should just disappear into another part of the world and not be seen again. What do you think Helen? stave off any repercussions, run away, tactful retreat – I mean, just piss off and not come back, hide from the Police?” Helen had listened to Roy before, each time it became obvious that he’d have to do something, stay, go or just shut the fuck up and wait to be caught. As Roy thought .. he realised things were complicated. Helen knew that Roy was very complicated. This was an extreme example of how not to park your car.

Poor old Roy had run over a work colleague in the carpark of the local shopping centre, the K Shopping Centre. It’s a recently renovated centre that had somehow squeezed 9 million people and their cars into spaces and areas large enough for 100 thousand people.

This impossible feat ensured the “K Shopping Centre” was the most unpleasant experience one could endure. The only folk that endured such a nightmare were too stupid to drive 4 kilometres in either direction to two recently renovated shopping centres 50 times bigger, far better and more comfortable.

The deceased co-worker Roy had left for dead, was very dead. Roy had hit Mark by accident at first but when he realised what he’d done he reversed and smacked over, into and over and over again at the ever decreasing body of Mark. The body was a bloody mess squelching and bubbling in the hot concrete carpark, it was pooling into the dips the concrete crew had left there.

The mess would never really come out despite the intense level of cleaning applied for days. Chemicals, blood sweat and tears, well yes metaphorical blood but it had no effect.

Mark’s body was poured into an Ambulance designed for such messy work and taken to the nearest Hospital, a bright shiny new building which was the proud and joy of the local community. The fact that Mark used to work in the Government department assigned to run this sparkling edifice of medical architecture wasn’t lost on the nurse who signed him in. Mark was not missed at work. Same as he wasn’t missed in the car park actually.

Once the ex-co-workers realised he wouldn’t be back, they stymied and muffled their routine rambunctious nature as they returned to gossiping about those that remained. Some were givers and some takers, but all were involved in the gossip in some way. Roy was suspiciously absent from work as well and the givers and takers could not figure it out, they had no idea that he’d rolled Mark into a kebab like spread on a very hot day at the K.

Roy had been becoming a professional curmudgeon of the highest order and was becoming so very quickly. He was growing a beard and thought it was time, due to some serious teeth pain that his remaining ones needed to join the missing ones. He’d had a large number removed and had bought some replacements. His previously purchased teeth were getting on in years, but they were younger than him and so would the new ones bought to fill the new holes.

His view on life varied depending on what pains he was living through, back, neck, groin, legs teeth, head and the nasty thoughts that pained him as well. He’d run away and avoid Police, the courts, goal and the nasty case of mistaken sexual intent that goal would provide. He laughed at the thought of suddenly becoming someone’s bitch as he was soon turning 60, the poor fucker wouldn’t be getting the good end of the stick. That’s if the fucker wanted Roy to be the top of course. The stick was another of Roy’s pains.

So Helen just sat, (again with the sitting), waiting for Roy to get his collective shit together. He’d decided to run away to Spain, the Costa Del Sol. A very heavily populated UK repat spot where he thought he could hide out his days. If he lurked on the edges, stuck to drinking, eating and more drinking, while trying to have sex with the soon to be sunburnt tourists, he could stay off the radar.

This regime of “eat, drink sleep, fuck” while remaining off the radar, appealed to him. He might even invite Helen when he’s set, although she’s beyond getting sunburnt or falling into the trap of fucking Roy. She was very good company and she really did care.

The office’s next doughnut morning tea was held the K Shopping Centre and no-one cared that they should show some respect for Mark by going somewhere else. Not parking in the one bay that still held some off his remains didn’t even enter their minds. Bill from the scheduling section had the misfortune of getting some of Mark on his shoes, he suddenly thought about it.

He did carp and moaned on about his ruined shoes for the whole morning tea. They shared the flavours and types of doughnuts with coffee, gossiped about the takers not there and wondered about Roy. Where the fuck was Roy, he’d missed paying his share of the morning tea money again. He’d also somehow fallen off the roster and hadn’t been at work for a fortnight.

Helen joined Roy in Spain where she did get fucked and sunburnt, but not with Roy.