It Was The Principle Of The Thing (or, why I kicked a dwarf at a funeral)

I used to live in a house that was built directly opposite a church. A Church of Scotland church, no less. For those of you who have no clue about the Church of Scotland, just imagine a life in grey cardigans, incessantly tutting and in possession of a big Jesus-shaped straw to suck the joy out of, well, everything.

The house I lived in being built had caused the catastrophic loss on ONE whole parking space for the church. The church that has its own car park, I might add.
The discovery that this precious parking space had been lost by the provision of shelter to a single mother only served to make them ass rape "judge not lest thee be judged" to the strains of the banjo music from Deliverance.

My house had a kind of car park in the front. Well, enough parking space for me and the next door neighbours. Surrounded by a wall and quite clearly on private property.

The only space they'd lost was the one directly in front of my house, because parking there would totally block the entrance and that would be selfish and wrong. Not that that stopped them.

Sunday after Sunday, someone would park right across the entrance, blocking me, my neighbours and any potential visitors completely in or out.

I put notes on windshields. And not the anonymous, I'm a total dick with nothing better to do than bug people who park here but don't have the balls to sign the note type of notes either. I was polite. I went to the church and asked them to kindly stop. I pointed out they had their own car park and had only lost the use of ONE parking space.

But to no avail.

So, after nearly a year of this, one Sunday the church looked quite busy. Great, I thought, someone is bound to block the entrance.

But no. On this day, a new low was reached.

I had been in the shower and came downstairs only to find someone had parked right in my freaking driveway. Right in front of my window. On what was clearly private property and the parking space of the person who lived in said property (I should point out that I didn't have a car at this time, but I had frequent visitors who did and also, it was the principle of the thing).

Whoever it was was nowhere in sight. Fine, I thought, I'll wait until the church comes out and then go and have words with them. Enough is enough. No more Miss Nice Girl.

I had failed to notice the hearse parked in front of the church.

My dad came to visit and had to park on the next street. I told him my plan of attack. He agreed, some might even say encouraged.

The church began to empty as I was making lunch. I missed the selfish prick parker getting into their car. But by God, I heard them turn the key.

Out I fled, wild-eyed and possibly a little drunk but probably not because it was lunchtime on a Sunday.

"Oi!" I cried as I bashed at their window with my fists. "You can't park here, can't you see this is private property? There are places to park everywhere around here. Would it have killed you to walk an extra two minutes to get to the church?"

Then I used an insult I have never used in my life and I have no idea why I decided to use it on that day to that specific person, who, up till that point, I had only seen sitting down in the driver's seat of their car:

"Are you dopey or something?"

And out of the driver's seat steps a dwarf.

This is the point at which I notice the hearse. And the gathering crowd. And the tearful widow.

You'd think I'd stop there.

You'd be wrong.

I kicked her. The dwarf, not the widow, I'm not that sick.

It was an accident, I swear. More a tangling of feet. I flail when I'm indignant.

My ever so encouraging father was nowhere to be seen. Someone in the crowd whispered a little too loudly

"She kicked the dwarf"

to which the dwarf replied

"Actually, it's little person"

to which I replied

"Actually, it's selfish bitch who parks on private property and needs to get her arse out of here before I kick her even fucking harder".

I am why Jesus wept.

And I don't care. Bitch had it coming.