To the woman I killed in the supermarket carpark today

 

 

Please understand that I accept no responsibility for your death, it was gruesome, squelchy wet and satisfying and now that it is done I feel so much better.

“What’s that you say from the mouldy dark damp clay?”

 

“Why did I do it?”

 

It was for a combination of reasons, I am not a killer you see, I am an amateur in the mechanics of sudden and violent death but since burying you I have rationalised my actions and find in favour of the defence.

“Yes that would be me…. and please stop screaming you are giving me a migraine”

 

Are you familiar with the term justifiable homicide?

 

justifiable homicide

noun

 the killing of a person in circumstances which allow the act to be regarded in law as without criminal guilt.

 

“No? you have never heard of it you say, what a surprise.”

 

Well let me explain it in small words that you will understand.

It means that when you entered the carpark and drove into a space right beside me, using the wide white lines to plant the worn grey tyres of you (1998) Punto on rather than between, when you then glared at me for mumbling under my breath.

 

mumble

ˈmʌmb(ə)l/Submit

verb

gerund or present participle: mumbling

say something indistinctly and quietly, making it difficult for others to hear.

 

Well perhaps it was a bit above a mumble but it in no way constituted a growl or a scream as you suggested.

When you then went on to open your driver door with force, rocketing it directly into my space and my car, rattling not only my (Nearly New) car but also my fillings. When you grunted and groaned while wriggling your overweight, pink tracksuit encased derriere out of a trap of your own making, using the paint work on my (Nearly New) car as leverage, while you further pushed the door of your (1991) Punto against my (Nearly New) car you committed a number of crimes so heinous as to invoke murderous rage.

 

“What crimes?” you ask,

You need to speak up I think the slick grey clay is blocking your throat or is it the cream éclair you stuffed into your mouth while beating your child across the head and pushing your supermarket trolley like a battering ram across the carpark.

“What crimes?”

You in fact committed a series of crimes;

crimes against decency,

fashion,

your own body

and most importantly to me, a crime against my (Nearly New) car which you casually and knowingly scarred with the door of your (1991) Punto.

Thus committing an attack on my life.

Now please concentrate, clean the muck out of your ears.

You see my (Nearly New) car cost me €38, 000.00

With interest and charges the car will cost me over the next three years close to €47, 000

The average working wage for a skilled man in Ireland (with deductions) is about

€38, 000.00 so my (Nearly New) car represents a year and a half of my life. And you willingly and with intent attacked those eighteen months of labour, blood, sweat and tears.

You took the sledgehammer that is your rather obese butt and used it to drive the stake which was your (1998) Punto’s rusted red door into the heart of my life, or the eighteen months of it that my (Nearly New) car represents.

 

So I killed you in self-defence.

self-defence

noun

the defence of one’s person or interests, especially through the use of physical force, which is permitted in certain cases as an answer to a charge of violent crime.

“he claimed self-defence in the attempted murder charge”

I am going to suggest to the supermarket that they build a few extra spaces in the carpark, sort of like the ones that are provided for Parent and Baby, have you seen them? They are the spaces close to the entrance marked with the iconography of a tall yellow person and a small yellow person. They are extra wide so a parent can safely take a child from a child-seat in the back and plant them on firm ground without harm to car or child.

“Yes that’s right, the ones that the business woman in the convertibles park in when they are in a rush and are “just popping in for a bottle of boujolais” the one’s where you never ever see a car with a child-seat in the back”

Well I am going to suggest the supermarket build a few additional spaces for people like yourself, the visually impaired, on their twelfth provisional licence who struggle to get out of their car in the space provided in ‘normal person’ parking spaces.

Perhaps they could invent a new symbol. A yellow car with an open door and a little explosion painted in red might add colour and make it easier for users see. And of course if they build those extra spaces down here, in the far away corner of the car-park, where lots of cars have child-seats in the back, they would conveniently build it directly over your body and silence the irritating screams.

 

 

Thank you for reading

Dave Kavanagh

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