Angry? Mad as hell and you can't take it anymore? Get something off your chest and it could be published online and/or in print. Bitches are anonymous and may be edited for length, grammar, spelling and our lenient standards of propriety.
Thursday, April 19, 2012
The time: Tuesday the 17th, 1:50pm. The place: on Spring Garden Road at the bus stop. You: a twenty-something female, wearing too much eye make-up and puffing on a cigarette. You had a stroller with you, and a toddler that was wandering around. When your little boy started to wander a bit towards my bus, you shoved him into the bus shelter so hard, that he fell into the corner of shelter.
When the poor boy started to scream and howl in pain, hands to his head, what did you do? Nothing. You acted like he wasn't even there, and puffed on your cigarette. I stared at you, waiting for you to turn my way, so that I could give you the death-stare. But you looked off into space, as if there was no child wailing in pain at your feet.
I should have got off the bus and confronted you. The only reason I didn't was because I was on my way to a job interview. Fuck that, I should have done it anyway. I can only imagine what that poor child gets from you at home, if that is how you treat him in public. —Simply-Red
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