my thoughts as a piece of 'creative' non-fiction. the following is a 'true' story:
the only time i've ever seen this was a long time ago, when i was a young boy. naturally, i was about to step into a bottle store when i heard them. it was vicious. these women were standing at the entrance of the mall literally digging their nails into each other's faces.they were pulling at each other's hair, gnawing at each other's necks, kicking and crying. the man, wisely, was nowhere to be found and a mob had began to develop wherein some cheered, others expressed disgust and the rest demanded to be shown the two-timer - naked, hung and bleeding from beatings.
i was worried.
i thought someone would drop dead, soon. i thought i was too young to see a corpse and i rushed into the bottle store but - as soon as i went through the doors - i felt a pang of guilt at not having said or done something. but what could i do? i had never been able to deal with violence and in any case there were men out there at least twice as large as i was who were laughing, standing with their arms crossed high over their chests. i knew if i did or said anything my age would do me in. they would feel undermined and turn on me. all of them. things like tradition and culture were largely incomprehensible to me even back then but i knew enough to keep my head on my shoulders.
so i just continued. through the bottle store and right to the back where i stepped into the walk-in refrigerator. i realized, then, that i was very angry. i looked at the crates of beer which stood from wall to wall and subdued a strong, sudden desire to thrash everything.
i said "f*** everything" quietly, to myself - and then i paid for two six-packs and left the liqour store.
