2294. The taxi ride|
© Bruce Goodman 4 December 2021
The cab driver turned right instead of left. I knew the area quite well and had presumed he would have turned left. So I learned over from the back seat and said, “I thought you would have gone down McKenzie Avenue.”
“Are you telling me,” he was clearly annoyed, “are you telling me that I don’t know my way around here? I’ve driven a taxi in this town for over ten years so don’t tell me I don’t know what I’m doing. I take it you’re not from this town.”
“No, I’m not from here,” I said. “But I know the area quite well.”
“Garbage,” he said. “You’re talking garbage.”
I could tell he was driving more carelessly. He’d speeded up and I thought he was taking the corners a little too fast. By now we were miles from where I wanted to go and he was still rabbiting on about my ignorance.
“Some people think they know everything.”
The next thing he had swiped the side of a parked car, but he kept on driving.
“Aha!” I exclaimed. “Here’s where I live!” It was a stupid thing to say because I’d already told him I didn’t live in this town, but he slammed on the brakes and said “Get out! That’ll be forty dollars.”
So I gave him forty dollars and he took off. About 30 seconds later there was a huge BOOM! and a plume of black smoke shot up behind some houses.
This incident has put a wet blanket on what I was going to do. Getting paid for murdering my ex will have to await another day. And besides, I left the bomb in the taxi.
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