‘Jack-ass!’ Angie spat before the last of the shattered head-lamps crumbled onto the ground.
She jumped out of the car frothing at the mouth.
‘You bitch!’ was how she was greeted by the other driver whose face was a similar shade of puce as Angie’s was.
The red Porsche she had hit was complete with waxed metal, platinum rims and two tail lights sprinkled on the ground like fine fairy dust.
It wasn’t her fault though. There she was minding her own business, when a five-seater Mitsubishi passed by with three sheep packed at the back of it going ‘Beh!’
‘Weren’t you even looking?’
Angie almost shook her head.
‘I’m sorry,’ she croaked when her anger deserted her. As much as she hated admitting defeat, she couldn’t convince herself that the other guy was to blame.
The man sighed; a visible, desperate attempt to calm down.
‘Okay…are you hurt?’
Angie shook her head.
‘Are you insured?’
‘Good. Look, it’s bumper to bumper so no use bringing in the traffic wardens. Give me your number; I’ll call you when I get home…Hey, listen,’ he said. ‘Sorry I overreacted, but it’s brand new. I’m just coming from the Licences office…Oh well…’
He waved, stepped back into his car and drove away trailing a tail-light behind him.
He called later that night, they agreed on details and then; ‘Sorry about earlier.’
‘But I called you a bitch…’
‘Forgiven and forgotten.’
They met at a cafe the following week. Angie handed him a cheque and he gave her a smile.
‘Keep it,’ he said.
‘What? No way!’
‘I don’t want it.’
‘How will I pay for your car?’
He grinned. ‘Buy me dinner.’
Angie flushed, hesitated and nodded.
That was how it started and that was ten years ago. They are still married today and Angie still cannot see a sheep without a grin pasting itself on her face.
This is for Trifecta. The word this week is … *drum-roll*…ASS. I enjoyed this one.