Mean Girls

I notice 3 cats-bum receptionist-types heading towards me, this morning as I walked towards work. Each young and attractive, each with a hand in the air, holding take away coffees, almost all with exactly the same expression on their faces, versions of determined, is what I’d have called it. One looked weight of the world on her shoulders/determined. One looked determined/perky, licking her lips. The other looked determined/distracted, as if she was planning her route. Each one had bags of the same style over their arm. Each had on a wedding ring.

They looked like mean girls. “Bar, bar, bar-bar, ba, ba.”

They were coming at me. If they’d linked arms and high kicked for girl power, I would have been surprised.

I tried to imagine their husbands? Oh yes, they'd have husbands. Tony, Jason, Jesse. Of course, truthfully, I'd imagine Tony, Jason and Jesse in their undies, but maybe that is just me. 

Those boys would be putting in the hours at night. “Get down there and don’t stop until I tell you,” say the three girl’s voices in unison.

Tony dressed up as panty pad man superhero, you know, like in the Libra ad. Small, white undies. Panty pads head wear, as shoulder pads, knee pads, and ankle boots. 

Jason wearing a cat’s skin like a cape, attached by the cat’s head on top of his head, and probably nothing else. Hairy chest, hairy stomach, big sausage, naturally, hairy legs.

Jesse in blue and red like a superman outfit. Tights, leaving nothing to the imagination, you understand. Hung Jesse.

Each with a light sabre, in hand, each ready to defend their girls.

They swished by. “Bar, bar, bar-bar, ba, ba.”

I was secretly scared of them.

I know, the things you think as you walk to work, hey?

Still, it made me laugh, the whole thought process, and it put a whistle on my lips, as I walked the rest of the way to work.