“Hit and Run, Run, Run!” by Linda Robertson

October 15, 2012

Hello again! Part of the reason I set up this blog, with the help of a dear friend, was to get my name, writing styles, and personality known and hopefully appreciated by the world I live in. By doing this, I want to challenge myself to be a better person, a better writer, a better friend, and a better branch of my family tree.

I also look forward to discovering new friends along the way. As my readers, I hope you’ll find my work entertaining and enjoyable, and if you do, please pass the word, and my stories, on to your friends and families.

For starters, I’m publishing one of my favorite genres – humor – and I really feel that several of you will find yourself in my writings. This particular story is referred to as “creative non-fiction” – a true story written creatively. As you read it, you’ll see why. And please feel free to comment on any and all of the articles, poetry, short stories, etc., that I share with you on awakenings19.

Happy reading!

Linda

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HIT AND RUN, RUN, RUN

By Linda Robertson

© November 24, 2009

 

The thrift store was calling our names – “Brenda, Linda, come in! Shop here. Find my bargains and spend your money!”

To celebrate my sixtieth birthday on November 19th, my wonderful friend, Brenda, took me shopping at the Salvation Army thrift store in Clovis. She had already treated me to a spectacular lunch, filled with laughter and enjoyment. Now we were on our way to even more fun, spending a couple of hours browsing through new treasures that were previously someone else’s throwaways.

I had already filled up two large bags with my cache when Brenda suggested I put them in her trunk instead of hauling them all over the store. I have trouble walking long distances, and I knew we still had a lot to survey (and most likely purchase) so I accepted Brenda’s suggestion and took the heavy bags to her car. As I walked to the parking lot, she stood in the doorway and pressed the “unlock” button on her keychain.

Brenda’s car was in the second row of the parking lot, allowing room for a two-way roadway in front of the store. As I approached the road after putting the bags in the trunk, a mid-sized silver car came toward me. I took a step, then stopped. The driver stopped. I took another step, then he hit the gas. So, I stopped again. By now, I was in the middle of the road directly in front of his car.

He slammed on his brakes.

Just as he did, I got a good look at him.

Imagine the surprise on both our faces when I realized it was my ex-husband behind the wheel of that silver car. We shared a “deer-in-the-headlights” look. Everyone knows that expression!

I scurried across the road as fast as my aching legs would carry me, yelling in a loud staccato voice, “Brenda, Brenda, Brenda, Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God!”

She was just inside the door, having relocked her car with the remote, and hearing my panic, began yelling back to me in the same tempo. “What? What? What? Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God!”

I was breathless, but finally got the story out that my ex-husband was in the silver car, and must have come into town early to share Thanksgiving with our children.

Brenda had seen the whole incident, but now her eyes were huge with surprise, then hysterical laughter and excitement as she said, “I can see the headlines now:

‘MAN RUNS OVER EX-WIFE AT THE SALVATION ARMY THRIFT STORE’.”

 

THE END

 

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