Mary Thompson received a call from the factory she’d worked at for 50 years. They wanted to congratulate her and present her with a gift for her 75th birthday.
How delighted she was! Even though she hadn’t worked there in ten years, they remembered her and wanted to celebrate! Just receiving a card would be nice.
The big day arrived, and Mary dressed up, even applied a bit of lipstick, and left early to avoid being late. Six others like her, all “birthday stars,” gathered. They all knew each other and were thrilled to meet again! The Deputy Director gave a congratulatory speech and handed out envelopes with a ten-pound note inside. Afterward, a woman from HR led them to the factory canteen for lunch, reminiscing about their past meals there.
At the end, they were given a “food parcel”: five types of grains at 1kg each, a 2kg bag of flour, three tins of fish, and a 3-litre glass jar of apple juice.
It was nice, practical stuff, but how could she carry it all home?
A friendly woman from HR said, “Ladies, don’t worry. You can leave some things in my office and come back later to pick them up. Nothing will go missing, I promise!”
Mary, having seen much in her life, secretly chuckled at the offer. Right, leave it there, and you might not see it again! She decided to take it all in one go. She always had a plastic supermarket bag with her. The bag claimed it could hold 10 kg, so she put in the grains, flour, and tins, and tucked the jar of juice under her arm. Carefully, she stepped along the icy pavement.
Mary lived two bus stops from the factory and had always walked everywhere. Today was no different. Both hands were occupied, so she couldn’t use the bus. It was heavy, but her heart was light. She didn’t really need the juice, given the abundance of apples she had at home. Still, if given, she’d take it; it might come in handy. And those grains, though unfamiliar, would be useful too.
Mary stopped to rest after reaching the corner. She planned to cross this small road, just as the cars waited for the traffic light. She opted for a shortcut across the slick road instead of taking the long way to the pedestrian crossing.
A young man and his girlfriend sat in a sleek, expensive car, watching as Mary awkwardly navigated the road. Amused, he honked loudly out of nowhere.
Startled, Mary stumbled on the icy track, performed an involuntary dance, and fell. The jar shattered.
Her fall burst two bags of grains, spilling them onto the road. The flour bag split open. Mary got back on her feet, facing the fancy car. Through the wipers clearing the snow off the windshield, she saw the young couple laughing hysterically, waving her to hurry along.
Unable to hear her words over the blaring music and their laughter, they couldn’t see the fiery look on her face. She leaned down as if gathering her bag, and the young man honked again. Something snapped within Mary.
Memories of her war hero father flooded back, how he taught her never to let herself be bullied. She picked up a bag of grains, poked it open, and flung it at the car’s windshield. Then another.
The young man honked, too afraid to exit. Mary threw and threw until there was no more grain left. She picked up the flour bag, hurling it onto the car roof where it split, layering the snow-covered vehicle with white powder. Satisfied her “ammo” was spent, she took the tins in hand, seeing the terror in the young driver’s eyes.
It must’ve been like the fear the enemy felt viewing her father’s comrades. She tucked the tins into her bag, dusted off her hands, crossed the road, and hobbled home, feeling serene with a lighter heart. Those grains, not their usual fare, and they had plenty of their own delicious juices. And she had dealt a lesson to that rascal; her father would be proud.
The traffic light was long green, with the fancy car now the center of amused attention for bypassers. The young man didn’t exit, frantically calling someone. The wipers helplessly brushed white mush across the windshield.
Unexpectedly, her grandson arrived later that evening, bringing cake and champagne. “Gran, I thought you just baked delicious pies, but tossing a grenade at a tank is more like it! You’re on YouTube!”
Mary Thompson was now a local legend.
Oh, who really knows what the “old guard” is capable of in a moment of desperation? Best not to find out.
