Balboa

In this, my last post of the series, I will simply leave you with a story of passionate action that elicits the day to day excitement of rubbing shoulders with the labouring elite.

One evening, as he was about to clock off, a fellow worker saw someone new arrive at the factory; someone whom had done wrong to him regarding one girlfriend or another. On deciding to punch the innocent newcomer in the head, our young protagonist then makes a run for it. I don’t know how he runs, but it can’t be fast as the security guard had time to call the police before they arrived in time to catch the assailant (let’s call him Rocky for points on originality) just as he was making his getaway. You would have thought that this was a sign for Rocky to stop his reign of terror. But any determined man knows, as he did, that once you’ve already lost your job for an attack on factory property, you might aswell go for a two-fer and gain yourself a healthy criminal record by hitting the police officer trying to stop you.

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So Rocky spent four hours in a holding cell and afterwards was escorted back to the factory to pick up his car at three in the morning – while I was probably on my “lunch” break (so called because no-one has invented a name yet for the meal eaten at this time of night, in misery, surrounded by cardboard and cable ties – I would go for “deadfast” as a happy marriage of dinner and breakfast, if you’re an optimist; morose wishful thinking if you’re not).
The funniest thing about this incident was the aftermath, the assault itself was well over and done with before I had turned up for work and my good pal Eric on security had given me his version of events. Then, when I went to sign myself in, I saw one person had not clocked off on the shift before and instead had written (in childish scrawl in the comments box) “had to leave early because of an emergency.” I don’t know why they were so vague about the nature of the emergency, they would have to explain themselves later and we all learned very quickly what had happened. Some people just relish being on the inside of such drama. Whoever it was should’ve signed off with “xoxo GG”: the coy devil! Later on, my cohorts began to turn up after their pre-work ciggy. I managed to catch a confused story about Rocky’s fleeting appearance in the break room as he informed everyone about his fight in so many words as “I’ve gotta go, I’ve just decked someone”, as if he was late for the dentist or he’d left the gas on.

I think what can be learned from this is always keep your guard up and watch out for a strong upper-cut. That, and police custody doesn’t seem as long as it should be.

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