Written 3 November 2018
It was 9 hours into her shift, and the urge to huck a can of minestrone soup at her boss's massive head was almost unbearable for Krishma.
It's not that her boss was necessarily a bad guy. A little bit gawky. Patronising at times, but generally let her get on with her monotonous stacking of canned goods.
The problem was, Krishma had a tendancy to do stupid things when the idea embedded itself in her head. She was glad she never got to meet anyone important, like the Queen or something. She was sure she'd end up pulling up the monarch's dress and reveal her royal knickers.
As she weighed up the can in her hands she considered the other times she acted on these stupid impulses. Kicking that toddler's bear in front of the oncoming tube. Booting those guys’ football into the depths of the serpentine in Hyde Park. Telling that angry woman that when she yelled she looked like a carved pumpkin in the kebab shop. That one earnt her a black eye and a couple of stitches.
Still, here she was. On top of a step ladder. Her stupid boss loitering at the bottom, as if his job was to shadow her. She needed the job, though.
But, did she really?
Really?
“You seem to have stopped working Krishma. Come on. Only an hour left.”
If she hucked the can, she’d be taking a stand for all the downtrodden workers out there.
She would do it for them.
A well-aimed can to the head could change the world.
These thoughts fogged her mind, and she couldn’t shake them.
She launched the can right at her bosses face. And as he grasped at his now profusely bleeding nose, howling with pain, all those thoughts disappeared, replaced with regret, sympathy and an overwhelming desire to laugh.