Dear Pop Pantry,
I hope you will read my letter, and perhaps she will be listening. Her name is Sandra, and she works in the same Traffic Enforcement Department as me.
Before she arrived, I was dedicated to my role and wrote the most tickets, bar none. But now my joy is pierced with shame. I was cavalier with a cavalier Thursday last and left it unmolested on a grass verge so that I could scurry back to the portacabin to write this note. My confession, if you will.
She is a shoe-shone, shimmering, hi-vis-ion of loveliness. I have found myself sneaking into her beat, on the chance that I might see her russet bob disappear around a corner or bump into her up by the fish shop.
I am so besotted that I would offer her the spare cup on my flask. On those cold grey days, she would only have to ask, and I would whip it out sharpish, unscrewing as I went.
A couple of days ago, I went into Ogden Street hoping to catch her, and to my shame ticketed a vehicle adjacent to the place that sells mobility scooters.
Unfortunately, she was passing as the irate driver happened upon his motor. I am sorry to say he assaulted her with a French Loaf and she has been on the sick ever since.
I dashed over as the car sped off, gently caressed the crumbs from her tunic and comforted her as she sobbed. At that moment, my double-yellow heart broke for her. I could not help but feel partially responsible.
So, if you could play “She’s Got Her Ticket (Live Version)” by Tracy Chapman, that would be much appreciated. It will help me get through my disciplinary.
Yours, long time listener, first-time contributor.
Simon Gary is the author of the darkly comic novels “Gone to the Dogs” and “Thryke: The Man That Nobody Knew.”