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Saturday, November 8, 2014

Cab Fight #1

“A couple is getting out of a Checker cab on the corner. Those are my favorite kind because of the Checker pattern on the sides. The couple is having an argument, and the woman slaps the man and walks off. A second or two later, her shoe breaks, only instead of putting it back on, she takes them both off and throws them at him.” –The Beat on Ruby’s Street



Greenwich Village, 1958.

People are asking, who were this couple? British, I think. Here’s one way I imagined it:

She: Oh, come on, you can’t sulk all day, can you? Can you?

He stares at the seat ahead of him in silence.

She: It’s not so terribly bad, you know. I miss London and we’ve been here much longer than you promised.

Silence.

She: Darling, think about it. You’d be a fish out of water in L.A.

He: No I wouldn’t—

She: You would—

He: It was my position and they took it out from under me—

She: They don’t even have a proper Christmas out there—

He: I don’t bloody care about Christmas.

She: What do you care about?

Silence.

She: Do you care about me? What I want? No. Just USA and the almighty dollar.

Silence.

She: I’ve crossed oceans, smiled at double chins trying to pat me on the bottom, had countless boring dinners in this filthy city and we finally get a chance to go back home and you can’t even think of me!

He: I think of nothing but you—


She: How? How do you think of me?

He: (to driver) Pull over, will you?

She: I thought we were going home—

He: I’m getting out, I need a walk.

She: I’ll go with you—

He: I’m fine.

Cab pulls over. He gets out and fishes in his pocket for money to pay the driver; she follows.

She: Can’t you even look at me, Bry—

He: I need some bloody time alone, Cil. Can’t you see that?

She: You’re not going back to London, are you? Look at me.

Silence.

She: You’re going to find another bloody job and stay here and I’m going to have to stay with you. Wanker!

He: Leave me alone—

She: I’ll leave you all right. Bloody hell!

She slaps him and walks off. Shoe breaks. She throws both shoes at him; he ducks back inside the cab, which drives away.


Yeah, well...maybe?? I’ll think of something else tomorrow.


--Ruby T.