May I Have A Ride

The old woman sat on the bench at the bus stop. She had been there for quite a while: watching, observing, waiting. The bus had dropped her off nearly thirty minutes earlier, and another would soon be coming. She was beginning to get restless.

A light green Impala pulled into the mall parking lot across the street, and she watched it intently as it came to a stop in a parking space not far from where she sat. A demented smile pursed her lips as the two occupants exited the vehicle. She saw that it was two teenagers: a boy and a girl, both about sixteen years old. She hated teenagers. Her eyes widened as she watched them make their way toward the mall entrance.

The girl was skinny, no, scrawny was a more accurate description. She couldn’t have weighed more than ninety pounds soaking wet. Her long blonde hair was blowing straight up in the wind. If the breeze had been any stronger, she might have taken off like a kite. The boy wasn’t much bigger, with shoulder-length brown hair blowing freely in the wind, his face covered with freckles. They looked like a couple of candlesticks, with their flames flickering in the wind. They were both wearing blue jeans, gym shoes, and T-shirts with rock-and-roll logos printed on them. She hated rock-and-roll. She hated blue jeans. She hated long hair. She hated teenagers. SHE HATED THEM!

The old woman watched them until they disappeared into the mall, then she turned her attention back to the green Impala. She scanned the parking lot, looking back and forth, to make sure she wouldn’t be noticed. There was a minimal amount of pedestrian traffic moving about.

She waited patiently until no one was in that section of the parking lot, and when she felt the time was right, she stood up and slowly walked toward the Impala.

The car was locked, but that wasn’t a problem. Most of the cars had been. She had taken this possibility into consideration long before she had begun her mission. Yes, that’s exactly what this was, a mission. A mission to rid the world of the scum of the earth. The indecent, disrespectful virus that was destroying everything that was sacred.  Something had to be done about it, and she knew exactly what to do and how to do it.

The woman reached into her handbag and pulled out a slim jim. She had practiced using it many times before her mission had begun. She had covered all the bases. “Careful planning brings success,” that’s what Momma used to say, she thought as she slid the slim jim between the door and window with the skill of a professional car thief. In no time at all the button popped up and she was in. Now all she had to do was wait.