Three Line Tales: Big Yellow Taxi

three line tales, week 34: yellow car in Havana

photo by Wolf Schram – here’s the full size version


 

‘It’s quite a collection you have there.’ Dr Hobson leafed through the last pages of the scrapbook, knowing they would be the same as the first – photos ripped from magazines, from books, downloaded from the internet, the images striped light and dark where the printer must have run low on ink.

The walls were pasted with the same pictures – endless chrome hub caps, flat bonnets and voluptuously curved bumpers, a clamour of yellow. ‘Sammy,’ she said, then, ‘Sammy,’ dragging his stare away from the few spots in the room naked of picures. ‘Sammy, why do you collect taxi cabs? Do you think you can tell me?’ At the word ‘taxi’ she had his full attention for the first time since the guard had unlocked the cell door.

He levelled that gaze at her – blank, icy – the one spread across every tabloid front page around the globe. ‘Because at some point in life we all have to leave, Dr Hobson,’ he said.

 


Written for Sonya at Only 100 Word’s Three Line Tales – and yes, I know I’ve technically disqualified myself by using three paragraphs instead of lines, but I’ll tag along just for fun. See here to join in and to read the other, wonderful stories.

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30 thoughts on “Three Line Tales: Big Yellow Taxi

  1. Strange and wonderful. I think writing is a desease, and the more severe it becomes, the better the writing 🙂
    You’ve got one of the worst cases I’ve seen. Hope it’s not terminal, because if it is there’s not much time left to put your life in order 🙂

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Ah, Jane! You’re always so kind and generous with your praise and support. Thank you. Will you write my eulogy? Stuff me in a paper bag then stick me in the ground – that’ll do 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

      1. Newspaper, cardboard box, length of second hand carpet (preferrably hessian backed if poss), stick me in the composter and let the worms do the rest – whatever you fancy. 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      2. A friend of mine was buried in a wicker thing a few months back – I could weave you a casket of willow, have a bit of a do – with weeping friends and relatives; they’ll like that – then bung you in the wormery and keep the casket to store blankets in if that’s ok?
        I hope you’d do the same for me.

        Liked by 1 person

      3. I’ve got a better idea! It would involve drying and shredding your body.
        You’d be gift packaging for goody bags (full of cosmetics to make your loved ones look as if they’re dead, just like you – except they’re not shredded) to be handed out at the funeral. It would be sooo cute.
        No need for thanks – I know you’d do the same for me.

        Liked by 1 person

      4. I got a goody bag once – hubs was nominated for a very nice film award, clever man, and at the ceremony at the tables were goody bags for all of posh chocs, hair products and so on. I think shredded celebrity would have been more appreciated 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      5. What does yer man do?
        Oh my God – he’s Paul Kaye, and you never told me. The film must have must have been It’s all Gone Pete Tong – or was that a TV thing?
        I got a goody bag once – someone dropped a few into Oxfam – they weren’t wanted, probably because they didn’t have any posh chocs in them 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      6. He’s an animator and the film was his own short animation which was Bafta nominated the same year as Gladiator and Billy Elliott. A long time ago! Though he didn’t win I was still hugely proud to be there with him. It was a great night but I wouldn’t be bothered about repeating it particularly – dressing up to that extent is really not me 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      7. Well done him!
        I bet you were uncomfortable in your posh frock, and resentful at having to buy shoes and a bag just for that occasion.
        Did you buy the bag and shoes specially?

        Liked by 1 person

      8. Did I heckers like! I borrowed them from a girl at work who loved all that nonsense – I even think my frock was second hand. The shoes were torture too. I would have been happier in Dr Martens 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

      9. Terrifying! And agony – my feet were a mess by the end of the night and I was lucky not to sprain an ankle, teetering around like a new born foal! Give me trainers, give me walking boots, but never – ever – give me high heels. They must have been invented by a man, or at least by women wanting to attract men.

        Liked by 1 person

      10. High heels are mantraps, but there are methods which don’t result in bunions and being stuck in a crappy relationship based on lust.
        BTW I’ve had to delete most of this message because it was bonkers. The men in white coats are giving me drugs to control my runaway sense of humour 🙂

        Liked by 1 person

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