Sarah Thompson received a call. The management at the factory where she worked for 50 years wanted to congratulate her and give her a gift for her 75th birthday.
She was thrilled! It had been ten years since she retired, and yet they remembered her! Even if it were just a card, it would be a lovely gesture.
The day finally arrived. Sarah dressed up nicely, even putting on some lipstick, and left early to make sure she wasn’t late. There were six “birthday celebrants” gathered, all of whom knew each other and were delighted to reunite. The Deputy Director gave a speech and handed each of them an envelope with a £20 note inside. Then a woman from HR took them to the factory canteen for lunch, reminiscing about their old factory meals.
At the end, they each received a “grocery pack”: five types of grains, a 2kg packet of flour, three tins of fish, and a 3-liter glass bottle of apple juice.
It was a thoughtful gift, but how would they carry it all home?
The friendly woman from HR said, “Ladies, don’t worry, you can leave something in my office and come back to collect it later. Nothing will go missing, I promise!”
Sarah, having seen a lot in her life, chuckled inwardly at the suggestion. Leave things there and they might just disappear!
She decided to take everything with her. She had a sturdy supermarket bag, labeled to hold up to 10kg, so she packed the grains, flour, and canned food inside and tucked the apple juice bottle under her arm. Cautiously, she began the journey across the icy pavement.
Sarah lived two bus stops away from the factory, and she always walked, all her life. She chose to walk this time too—getting on the bus with both hands full wasn’t practical. The load was heavy, but she felt joyful inside. And as for the juice, she had plenty of her homemade kind, as apples had been plentiful this year. But it was a gift, and she could make use of it! The grains were unfamiliar to her, but they’d find a purpose too.
She reached a little intersection and paused to rest. She planned to cross diagonally to save some steps, despite the icy ruts on the street.
Behind the wheel of an expensive car that Sarah was trying to cross in front of was a young man with his girlfriend. They seemed amused by the elderly lady awkwardly in the middle of the road, and for some reason, he honked loudly and suddenly!
Sarah startled, slipped on the ice, and fell. The juice bottle shattered. She landed on the bag, bursting two grain packets, which spilled onto the road, and the flour bag split open.
She stood up and faced the expensive car. Through the snow-clearing wipers, she saw the young man and his girlfriend struggling to hold back laughter, waving her on to hurry out of the way.
Despite the blaring music and their laughter, they couldn’t hear what Sarah was saying. It was all visible in her angry red face. She bent down, apparently about to gather her things, and the young man honked again. Something snapped in Sarah’s mind.
Memories of her father, a war veteran, came flooding in—how he threw grenades at enemy tanks and taught her never to back down. Indeed, Sarah picked up a grain pack, poked a hole in it to let the grains spill out, and hurled it at the car’s windscreen. Then the next pack followed.
The young man honked, but hesitated to get out. Sarah kept throwing until the grains were exhausted, and then she launched the flour bag onto the car’s roof. The split bag covered the vehicle with a snowy layer of flour. Satisfied that all her “ammunition” was used, she picked up the canned goods, eyeing the young man, whose eyes were wide with horror—much like the eyes of the enemy her father had faced. She calmly put the cans in her bag, dusted off her hands, crossed the road, and made her way home.
Breathing became easy, and she felt at peace. Those grains wouldn’t be missed, and she had plenty of her own juice, better than the store’s. And she had dealt with that rascal—her father would have been proud.
The traffic light had long since turned green, and cars maneuvered around the stationary fancy vehicle, their drivers chuckling. The young man remained inside, constantly on the phone, while the wipers smeared the floury mess across the windscreen.
That evening, her grandson unexpectedly arrived with a cake and some champagne. “Gran, I thought you only baked delicious pies, but you’re also ready to take on tanks with a grenade! You were on YouTube!”
Sarah Thompson had become a local celebrity.
Oh, who can truly know what “the old guard” might do in a moment of desperation? Best not to find out.
