Condescension

He had been her chauffer for over a year.

Driving the Rolls Royce had always given him great pleasure. Coming as he did, from a third-world country where cars were scarce, to a large degree he regarded his life as blessed. He enjoyed maintaining it, washing it, polishing it, and to some degree taking the elderly widow out on long trips. Longer journeys were best because the old lady would spend little time talking. He could relax and enjoy the experience, without the continual grumbling, that usually didn’t stop. She was full of complaints, most of them directed at him. She didn’t pay him much, although the small bed in the loft over the stable was sufficient for his needs.

She seemed to be even more miserable than usual as he held the door open for her. He felt that on this occasion her incessant carping would put him in the right frame of mind and strengthen his resolve, in order to say what he had to say. She wasn’t going to like hearing it, but he had something that he desperately wanted to tell her. She struggled in and finally made herself comfortable. It was just a short trip along the coast road into town. As expected the nagging and griping soon started. She began in her usual haughty tone, talking down to him. He hadn’t done a good enough job cleaning the windows, he was driving too slow, his chauffer’s cap was dusty; didn’t he ever clean it? It may have been acceptable where he came from, but not here, she said. And for the thousandth time she told him how grateful he should be that she had been generous enough to hire him.

She wouldn’t have seen his smile as the vehicle swerved off the road and raced down towards the edge of the cliff.

Quite naturally, his response time was far better than any sudden motion or activity she was capable of. Now was the chance to finally say what had been burning away in his mind for so long.  In that final moment he shouted, “Goodbye madam,” then leapt deftly from the racing car. He swivelled and watched as it disappeared over the edge. He lay very still and strained to hear the screams. They grew quieter as the car dropped the great distance to the rocks below. Then, he heard the crash, followed by the explosion.

He remained there at the cliff’s edge for some time, both revelling in a state of euphoria and going over his story.

13 thoughts on “Condescension”

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