12 Days of Fiction 2016 -12: Departure
Dammit dammit dammit.
My boss is a troll. No, really: he is a troll. You know, there are trolls and trolls, but he’s so… trollish. Dammit, now I look like a racist. Me, of all people. If I had any real inclination towards hating anyone, it would be him.
Dammit.
Of all days to make us leave late, it had to be today. I guess he’s bet my other boss cannot make it. Hey, that’s an idea… I think I’m right. I even know who’d he be betting with: they guy he plays golf with.
Or maybe he’s just being an idiot.
I’ll have to call a cab. But I never take cabs now. I’ll have to get one the old way and I don’t even know if they use apps only nowadays. The first three ones don’t stop when I hail them, but the fourth does.
And when I step in…
“What, man? You don’t like what to see? Is it because I’m a banshee, or because I’m a woman?”
I must have been agape, because I’ve had to close my mouth to speak. I try to placate her.
“Sorry, sorry… It wasn’t my intention at all. I’m having a bad day. My boss is a moron and has just let me out and he knew I needed to leave sooner. I have a flight in forty-five. Could you make it on time? And no, I’ve never seen a banshee drive before, but I’m sorry if I stared. Bad day.”
“All bosses are morons. I happen to like to drive, man. Not at all like the family. We can make it on time all right, but it’ll cost you seventy-five.”
“Here’s a hundred for you if you can do it in thirty-five,” I say, as I show her the note.
“A hundred? Fasten your seat belt, man. And don’t even think of smoking,” she says pointing at the appropriate sign.
“I don’t… Ouch!” As soon as she hears the belt click, she accelerates away.
“You gonna work this month, I assume,” she says.
“Yes. The family, you know. It’s the same for all of us, I’m afraid.”
“Yeah, man, I feel you. When I told my dad I wanted to be a cabbie he almost had a stroke. ‘Why do you want to be a cabbie?’ he said. ‘You’re a banshee, you can fly! You should take over the family business!’”
“Which kind of business?” I guess I know, but I have had enough of myself as a useless racist for the day. I’m not going to go with the stereotype of banshees…
“Funeral services,” she says as she negotiates a corner and almost hits a traffic light. Try not to stereotype people for this. “What can I say, we banshees are the best for it. But my call was different.”
“Have you ever… thought of driving professionally?”
“Ha, man, you must be mocking me!”
“Not really, no. From back here it looks like you could pilot race cars very competently.”
“Ha ha, thanks, man! Tell you what, we’ll make it in thirty!”
And she keeps talking. To herself, mainly, because from now on all I can do is grab hold of the car’s door and pray for dear life. I just answer to her with grunts and I try to force a smile every time I see her staring at her rear mirror to me. To me, instead of the road.
Were I so inclined, I’d chalk up another one with my troll boss. But my second boss wouldn’t like it at all. One can only hope, however.
I don’t know how, but she makes it. She clicks her tongue. She looks disappointed.
“Ah, man, thirty-two minutes. Sorry.”
“It’s all right. Here, have one and twenty. And good luck with the family.”
“Thanks, man, and the same to you!”
One thing is true: thanks to her, now I’m pretty sure I can arrive on time. But just barely, so I run through the airport, my trolley behind me, shouting “sorrys” and “incomings” as I fumble with my wallet.
I hear the speakers calling my name. I think it’s my name.
I have to check the panels. I still remember two years ago when they changed the flight at the very last moment and I almost lost it. But I had time then, and today I do not.
There. Gate thirteen, the usual one.
The boarding counter is crewed by two pixies in the airline uniform. I wave my ID card, but they don’t even look at it.
“Hurry, sir, they’re waiting for you!” they say, and they wave me in.
Finally, I reach the plane. My cousins cheer and jeer. One of us has to be the last one, and this year it’s been me.
But now, I can relax in the flight to the North Pole. One month until Christmas, and we the family of Elves have a lot of work to do before we have our real holidays.
