“I’ll have you know, I have been parking here for 52 years.”
“52 years, steady on old girl,” says Lillian.
The parking officer looks confused.
“We’ve only just parked here, my good man,” interrupts Lillian.
“No, your parking metre expired 15 minutes ago…”
“No, no, that was the last car that parked here before us,” says Lillian. “We were just fumbling in our purses for the correct change.”
“Fifteen minutes?”
“Oh my darling boy, we’re old ladies now, it takes us fifteen minutes just to put our knickers on,” says Lillian.
“Oh…ah,” the parking officer looks more confused. He is clearly trying not to picture that. “No… but…”
“I hear we can use our credit cards now,” says Lillian. “Can I use my credit card?”
“Well, yes…”
“No, no, just a minute, I’ve got the coins,” says Amy. “Oh why won’t you just come to my fingers… you stupid… FUCKING.” Amy stops and checks herself. Laughs. “There. Got it!”
Clunck, clunck, clunk, sounded Amy’s god coins disappearing into the slot.
“But, madam….”
“See, all good.” Lillian removes her white glove from her right hand and strokes the parking officer’s brown cheek with her bare hand. “Nothing for you to worry about.”
“But madam.”
“Nothing more needs to be done here,” commands Lillian. “You are very young, you must be new to this job.
The parking officer takes a step away from Lillian’s hand. “That is not quite how it works…”
“No, that is the way IT works, LIFE works, I am sorry,” says Lillian. She feels triumphant. “Come on Amy, lead the way… like a Galleon.”
“Rightio off then.” Amy leads the way smacking everything with her stick, as she looks back over her shoulder to see how the parking officer and Lillian are resolving the matter.
“Thank you my dear sir for all of your invaluable help,” says Lillian.
“My inwaluable what?”
“And people say customer service is dead, dear Amy,” gushes Lillian. She steps in Amy’s direction.
“I never believed it for a minute,” says Amy. “This way, dear.” Lillian leads the way.
There is a commotion at the front doors of the cinema.
“Which… way?” moans Lillian.
“Outwards,” Says Amy.
“Out of the way then.”
“You are in my way.”
The two front doors slam open against the wall. The two ladies sashay across the foyer towards the ticket box.
“They gave it a make over,” says Amy.
“As tacky as you like,” says Lillian. “Now, isn’t it?”
“Cinema carpet,” says Amy. “Do you think there are shops that specialise in it?”
“One for the holocaust movie,” announces Lillian. She looks at Amy. “There is a little place out in GreenVale called Mack’s Carpet World…”
“Denial?” says the box office girl, rather grimly.
“Isn’t that an Agatha Christie thing?” asks Lillian.
“With a boat,” says Amy.
“No, it is the holocaust movie.” It sounded like the cashier had said that one sentence for the 1,000,000th time.
“Really? Are you sure?” says Lillian.
“It must be set on the Danube,” says Amy.
“Yes,” says the humourless cashier. “I am sure.”
“Two.”
“Pensioner?” asks the box officer attendant.
“Yes, yes, all of that,” says Lillian. She turns to Amy and says in a hushed tone. “Although, I hardly think I look the part.”
“Could I see your card?”
“My what?”
“You concession card.”
“I didn’t know I had one… um… er, had to show it,” says Lillian. “If you are going to change the rules, we should be given some notice.”
“It’s always been the rule,” says the cashier slowly and steadily.
“Two, of those, please,” says Lillian abruptly. When all else had usually fail Lillian always resorted to bullying her way through, and it seemed to work.
The cashier rolled her eyes. She exhaled loudly. “Two concession?”
“Yes, of course, we’re both old ladies.”
“Ah…err. ” The cashier eyes the two women suspiciously. The machine whirrs and produces two tickets.
“These aren’t your first born,” says Lillian, holding up the tickets.
“I’m sorry?” says the cashier robotically.
“Smile, luv,” says Lillian. “You’re selling the Holocaust not living through it. Learn some of the songs.”
Lillian spins on her heal. “I’ll be needing a chick top,” says Lillian.
“But, we just had coffee and cake before we came in.”
“It is the only thing I ever go down on in that matters, now a days,” says Lillian. “It never fails to bring back a tingle.”
They both laugh.
“I want a double choc.”
“Oh Lillian, you always had a thing for those black men.”
“1981. New Orleans. A block of hashish… where did those days go?”
“What was his name?”
“I have no idea what you are talking about.”
“Oh, come on?”
“Diego.”
Lillian blusters through the foyer.
“Here’s Check Point Charlie,” she says loudly. “More gormless faces greeting us to make our cinema experience richer, no doubt!”
She tosses the tickets at the tall, gangly male usher who awkwardly grabs the ticket with both hands, some how ripping half away and handing the half ticket back all in one fluid motion. The 2 women drift through into the cinema section.
“They wouldn’t know their check point from their Charlie,” says Lillian.
The two women laugh.
“What cinema are we in?” asks Amy.
“Darling, I have no idea.” Lillian turns back to face the usher’s station. “What cinema? Hello?”
The two ushers are standing motionless with their backs to Lillian and don’t respond, despite there being no other patrons at the lunch time session.
“Hello? Hello?”
The plain female usher looks around slowly.
“Sweetie, sweetie, hello?” says Lillian. “What cinema are we in?”
She grunts something at Lillian.
“I think she said 1. Did she just say 1?” asks Lillian. “Did you hear her say 1?”
“I think she said 1,” says Amy.
“Are we in number 1?” says Lillian holding her ticket out trying to look at it in the dark.
“We must be in 1,” says Amy. “The door is open to cinema 1.”
“What else is playing?” asks Lillian.
“Saw 20,” says Amy.
“Oh dear lord,” says Lillian. “Don’t let us see Saw 20.”
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