Boxes

In the loading bay of my company two men were shifting small mountains of packages about, when they fell into a dispute.

Man 1 – (sporting dreadlocks and a Venda accent) “Hay’ hay’ maan! I don’t get paid for picking up your boxes you know!”

The other man walked away uninterested from his colleague and the box he had just dumped on his feet.

Man 1 – (standing up fully to reveal a T-shirt that had a faded face of Jacob Zuma) “What, you think I’m fucking joking nhe? I’m not touching it. Get it out of the way!”
Man 2 – (returning with another box and leaving it) “They are not my boxes.”
Man 1 – (pointing in an accusatory way at the packages) “This is out of order! Do you want me to tell Graham?
Man 2 – (lighting a cigarette and sitting on a crate) “Tell whoever you like.”
Man 1 – (running out of options and beginning to move the boxes) “This is no way to treat people, man. You’re lazy”
Man 2 – (pointing at him with his cigarette) “You’ve got a fucked-up attitude, you know that?”
Man 1 – “Yeah, and who made me that way? People like you who don’t know how to behave, how to treat another human being.”
man 2 – (now bursting an enormous bubble of smoke from the fag between his fingers) “Shut up.”

With that he gave what was left of his cigarette to his colleague and began to shift boxes himself.

Man 1 – (smoking and shaking his heard) “I’ll put you in a box one of these days.”
Man 2 – (looking at him and shaking his head) “yeah, yeah”

Khaya


2 Comments on “Boxes”

  1. Sanda says:

    nice….


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