Last night working in the cemetery I really wanted to kill someone. A total little scumbag tried to break into my van. Partly my fault. I had parked in the car park for the cemetery rather than in the depths of the grounds as I usually do. The wind was in the wrong direction and there are so few rabbits left that I didn’t want to spook them so I parked in the car park.
Also I usually have at least one dog with me but not this time as the van had been full our boy’s kit on the way there as we helped him move house. So there was my van empty and inviting. Stupid twat that I am I never even thought about its security.
I had a quick sneak round, only saw two rabbits and managed to get one. I headed back full of self-congratultions that my job in the graveyard was nearly done. No more chewed flowers and spoilt memorials.
As I approached the car park I could hear a rhythmic thumping. At first I thought it was coming from the Rugby Club over the road. Nearly at the car park I realised the noise was coming from the side of the van. I quicken my pace. As I got into the car park I saw a stereotypical hoody take off like an olympic sprinter and jump the perimeter fence. I glance over and see a large hole where my driverside door handle would have been. This all happened in about five seconds.
Now weapons safety is a big part of the job, and rightly so. So I had dutifully cleared the rifle and pocketed the magazine just in case I encountered any members of joe or janet public. For a microsecond I really wished I hadn’t. I was so angry I would have shot the little fuckwit without a thought. After all I had just spent an hour trying to hit things that were intent on running away. I even had a spade in the back. I would have shallow planted the bastard and then danced a jig.
Well not really, there was no way on earth I could have shot him. Or even shot near him. I’d be the one getting my collar felt. I couldn’t even give chase on foot down the main road carrying the rifle. I have never felt more impotent in my whole life.
I fumbled into the van through the passenger side and gave chase to the long gone cocksucker. Beaming my torch into the fields and screaming obscenities into the night.
I have little hope that he will be caught and even less that adequate justice will dealt. I have replayed the whole thing a hundred times in my head and have to settle for some delicious daydreams about what I would have done to the little shit if I’d caught him. The best ones involve some cable ties, a jar of meatpaste and a very hungry, slightly mental, lurcher cross.
If your reading this, which is highly unlikely, you will get yours you little cnut.
