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| 'Rosie In Rome' by Trish |
Rosie turned sharply at the sound behind her. A short plump Italian looking man smiled into her irritated face. "Buongiorno Seniora" said the man. Rosie stiffened, she didn't like the look in the man's beady black eyes, or the fact he stood far too close to her.
Rosie had years of practice at turning situations, that were not of her making or to her liking, upside down, and so she launched into this one with all her experienced gusto. "Go away! I'm a sick woman!" Rosie tottered left, then right, the man reached out to steady her. "Scat!, scat, be off with you" shrieked Rosie. An elderly woman dressed in black, with a starched white apron tied neatly around her ample waist, stood in the doorway of a small coffee shop, arms folded ,and watched with interest the odd interaction between the stout little woman and the short plump Italian man.
"Do you speak his language!" demanded Rosie of the elderly lady. A smile was the only response from the woman in the doorway. "Oh my God", shouted Rosie to the heavens, "she must be his partner in crime! they're about to attack me!" Leaning against the large window of the exclusive jewellery shop, Rosie reached down and with grimaces of pain, removed one new black pattern leather shoe, then the other. She tucked her hand's inside the shoes and began to jab them into the air like two weapons. Where the hell was the stupid bus with its stupid driver! she asked herself. Where did they all disappear to once they got off the bus? One minute she'd been walking along as part of the group and the next she was on her own. "Will you go away you lout!"
The more Rosie jabbed her shoes in the air, the broader became the man's smile. He reached out and tickled her under her double chin. The elderly woman standing in the door way, began to laugh. "police, murder, help!! screamed Rosie at the top of her well developed lungs. The more Rosie indulged her lungs and vocal cords, the more heartily the elderly lady laughed. In fury Rosie dropped one of the shoes, and
from around her neck and over her head, slipped the thick lengthy strap that served as a safe handle for the large leather handbag, that contained her purse, pills, smelling salts in case of a fainting fit, her jewellery and a large bottle of brandy, and swung it with all her might.
The wide swing of the bulky bag hit the man a heavy blow on the side of his round bald head , knocked him to the ground, flat on his back and unconscious. The lost crowed turned the corner just as Rosie, who'd hastily squeezed her new shoes back on, was about to give the unconscious man a good kick in the back side, or as near as she could get to it.
The large group cheered with relief, as they surged towards their fellow passenger, who seemed to be the centre of a drama. "Go Rosie!" called out a man's voice, from somewhere in the excited throng.
Startled by the noise of the advancing crowd, the elderly woman standing in the doorway, placed the palms of her hands over her ears , turned, and ran inside the coffee shop, her "mama a mia" drowned by loud cheering.
"After her" shouted Rosie, "she's one of his cronies, the pair of them were out to kill me". The bus driver lunged at the man who had now regained consciousness, and was trying to get to his feet. A torrent of angry words from the bus driver poured over the groggy captive. Rosie pushed forward "Tell the fool I've got a bad heart and tell him he's lucky he wasn't the death of me" gasped Rosie, as she placed a shaking hand on her forehead and clutched the lumpy handbag to her matronly bosom with the other.
Now the captured man ,began to talk excitedly. At first the agitated bus driver listened with impatience, but then as the captive talked and talked at a speed faster than light, the possibility of a solution dawned on the fraught driver, and his face began to beam.
"Seniora this man, he does not want to harm you he only wants to love you" said the driver. "He says from the moment he saw your happy face reflected" , here the driver paused and waved respectfully towards the gleaming shop window, "in this beautiful jewellery shop window, his heart was shot through with pain from to the sharp arrow fired by Cupid's bow".
"Pain! you say! let me tell you, if he had my bad back he'd know what pain's all about!"
Rosie turned towards the unsteady man and thrust her fist into his pale face, "Do you see these knuckles? crippled with arthritis they are, my lungs, kidneys, the whole lot gone! do you hear me gone! and as if that isn't enough, you have the cheek to walk up bold as you like and upset me! Get out of my sight you rotten little sod before I give your baldy head another clout for good measure."
The bus driver kept careful watch in case Rosie decided that her ardent pursuer did in deed deserve another clout with her heavy bag. The driver implored Rosie to calm down, he gingerly took her elbow and tried to edge her towards his bus.
He'd realized earlier, with a sinking heart. that he had an eccentric passenger on his bus, and therefore on his hand's. Now he was left in no doubt that his passenger was not only eccentric, but also quite mad, and capable of any mad behaviour that took her fancy!
Still cautiously nudging his passenger's resistant elbow, the driver pleaded, "the bus Seniora, the bus, it must leave immediately; you see, in my twenty years, I have never before been delayed with my bus". The other passengers had long settled themselves in their allotted seats and were looking on from inside the bus, incredulous, at the ongoing events taking place outside of it.
Rosie scanned the faces peering out of the tinted windows and a crafty gleam came into her indeterminate color eyes. So, they were not going to take her seriously! Well she'd see about that! For safety she again hooked the strap of her precious bag around her neck , then, with one of her best blood curdling screams, clutched in the area of her heart, slid to the ground and lay there as if dead.
The failed romeo, now less unsteady on his feet, gave a horrified look at Rosie's prostrate body, and took to his heels. He ran at top speed across the busy road, up the street and around the nearest corner. From the corner of her three quarter closed eyes, Rosie'd watched the gleam of brown leather shoes with the pointy toes shoot past . She weighed up what held the most value for her, lying stretched out on the pavement in her fainting fit, with that gaggle of idiots gawping at her, or jumping up and giving that little mongrel, now fast disappearing into the blue yonder, another tongue lashing. She stayed on the ground in her fainting fit.
From inside the bus, a man's voice bellowed in rage." For God's sake driver, how much longer is that scatter brained woman going to be allowed to hold us all to ransom! I came for a restful holiday and I intend to have it!" A large framed man with a maine of silver hair and a very red face appeared in the doorway of the bus and bounded down its three rubber covered steps. He bent over Rosie and swept her up as if she were no more than a child's doll. "Mr Miller, Mr Miller" pleaded the driver "perhaps it is unwise to move her". "Mr Miller my foot!" said the angry man, as he bounded back up the bus steps and plonked Rosie down in her seat. "Now, for pity's sake man, drive! drive!"
The driver, his large dark eyes darting between the road ,and at Rosie, through his rear vision mirror, finally pulled away from the curb. The last look at his silent passenger showed her with eyes still closed, in the same position she'd been plonked in by Mr Miller. Once the bus was safely on its way, the driver reflected on his passengers and wondered who had said 'go Rosie', for sure it was not Mr Miller.
Through her three quarter closed eyes Rosie watched it all. She concealed a little smirk at her own thoughts, 'so, Mr Miller wanted the whole thing over and done with did he! Well he'd soon see, that she Rosie, would have the last laugh. There were quite a few more tricks to draw on before this trip was over, and she intended to use every one of them'.
Tush
