A smoking street hood hopped onto the back of the jeepney. He was all Jack The Lad Plastic Wannabe Gangster kind of teenager. He waved his lit cig at the jeep collector touting for fares. The Jack Wannabe dismounted finished his cig paid the collector then climbed aboard.
He squeezed in next to a guy who was going to work. The guy had a feeling that the Jack Wannabe was an arsehole but with no proof just yet. That would change. The guy held onto the overhead rail with his left hand. His tattooed arm was visible. Maybe the Jack Wannabe didn’t like tattoos or foreigners.
The jeep sped this way and that bumping over potholes and uneven grids. The sound system was oddly at low volume. The guy sat looking out back at people going drinking and socialising as he went to work in the call centre.
The jeep stopped when the Jack Wannabe pulled the cord to get off. The wanker was still sat jammed into the guy. As the Jack Wannabe got up he barged past the guy and deliberately stepped onto his feet! The guy lifted up his left foot to remove the incipient rude Jack Wannabe’s foot.
He then stepped onto the guy’s other right foot doing it again! What a wanker! The guy may or may not have shoved the guy who got off the jeep and turned the corner crossing the road.
The guy was ready to push the bastard back out of the jeep to the road if he returned to make trouble. The guy knew a few moves to vulnerable areas even if the Jack Wannabe was younger and looked fit and street smart. He was a target.
The guy had a secret trick up his tattooed arm t shirt sleeve. The Jack Wannabe liked standing on feet. The guy sent it all back with 3 fold intent of pure unconditional love and energy to teach the Jack Wannabe a lesson. The tattooed Mt Maculot t shirt wearing English guy living in Metro Manila was also a trained witch.
The Jack Wannabe got his return fare quite quickly. He crossed the road and later on another street. There he wasn’t looking where he was going and was half squashed by 10 wheeled Isuzu Giga truck!
He wasn’t killed outright half dead half alive torn in two! A clean tear like a huge surgeon had done it. There was no blood from the upper part but the lower legs were bloodily wrapped round one of the truck’s large axles. How this occurred would later be worked out by the crash specialists. It was physics and objects in motion. The truck was bigger than the Jack Wannabe and he paid the price for stupidity and bad luck.
Jack Wannabe was calm conscious and fully alert. People stared and pointed. A woman screamed another was sick. It was night time but well-lit with LED streetlights. The truck driver and his mate stood there in shock till the cops and meat wagon arrived.
Some people took photos or filmed the event for posterity. It wasn’t every day they saw a pedestrian ripped in half still alive and talking.
“Oh no what happened? Tell my Ma I love her! Tell the English guy I’m sorry for deliberately stepping on his feet. I don’t want to die. Oh no Ma please save me! Where’s my legs? My legs are gone! Tell my Ma I love her. Tell her to tell the doctors to use my eyes. Use my eyes! Ma!”
“Yes, we will tell your Ma and the English man. Your legs are under the truck by the way. Don’t worry bro. it’s just a flesh wound. You’ll be fine…” an onlooker dressed in black with a hooded top and scythe commented.
Rapidly approaching sirens and flashing lights cut through the night. It was like putting a plaster on a land mine victim. Karma was both fast and merciless…
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