Story

The Stench of Cowards

Nancy's Notes 🖊️🎶

This was written in response to John’s March 14th “Writer’s Workshop Prompts” at The Sound Of One Hand Typing, meeting two of his prompts: an eight-sentence post based on the word “respect”. I write long sentences!

Not too long ago I brought my car to the dealer for routine maintenance and since it was going to be a quick appointment, I opted to wait in the customer’s lounge rather than go home and come back when the car was ready; apparently, quite a few other people had the same idea because the waiting area was quite full.

Sometimes I’ll find myself engaged in conversation with an interesting person but most times I prefer to wait in quiet, reading my emails or making notes for a story; this particular day, since the waiting area was full, I had no choice but to sit next to a woman and her little boy, approximately 3 years old.

The first thing I noticed about the woman was the hostility and impatience that shot out of her like a machine gun and the primary recipient of her nasty temperament was her little boy; she seemed to take great pleasure in taunting and teasing him and reprimanding him, both verbally and physically.

I was very uncomfortable with her behavior and found it extremely difficult to stay out of the situation but if I expect people to respect my boundaries, I need to show the same respect to them, however, this woman seemed to be inviting someone to say something; obviously no one wanted trouble so everyone kept their eyes averted, heads down and mouths shut, but the atmosphere in the room was tense.

The final straw came when the woman reached into her purse, pulled out a granola bar and began eating while her little boy stood at her knees whining because he wanted something to eat, too; the woman told him that was too bad because he already had his snack and the granola bar was HERS, and, of course, the child threw himself onto the floor and began crying at which point the woman bent over in her seat and slapped the boy several times on the side of his head, causing him to scream out.

That was it for me and while the other people tsk’d and muttered and winced, I turned to the woman and said in a tone as matter-of-factly as if I was asking what time it was, “Please don’t hit your child” to which she yelled “Shut up, bitch, and mind your own fucking business!”, which wasn’t entirely unexpected but I was prepared.

I got up and left the room, fully aware of eyes on me, glaring at me and I could feel their resentment as if I was the wrongful party in this scenario who let that little boy down while they all sat mutely by and allowed the poor child to be mistreated; what’s more, I could feel that horrible woman’s eyes boring a hole in my back, acting the fool and flaunting her victory over a defenseless child.

When I returned a minute later with a policewoman to show her what was going on in front of people who chose to remain silent, the mood in the room immediately shifted and I was suddenly the hero with people actually applauding for me as if this was some kind of performance for their entertainment; I wanted to scream “Live by example, you fucking bastards!”, but I wouldn’t lower myself to their level and couldn’t get out of that room fast enough .… a room reeking of the stench of cowards with no self-respect.

NAR©2024

Writer’s Workshop Prompts for March 14, 2024

This is “Teach Your Children” by Crosby, Stills, Nash & Young

All text, graphics and videos are copyright for The Sicilian Storyteller, The Elephant’s Trunk and The Rhythm Section and is not for use by anyone without permission. NAR©2017-present.

32 thoughts on “The Stench of Cowards”

  1. Thank you! Thank you for speaking up for that poor defenseless child! There are far too many people nowadays who do nothing, say nothing, and let behavior like this slide, and then they wonder why kids are being abused? I am so thankful you did the right thing Nance! Xoxo

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  2. Pingback: 18/3 – 24/3/24 – Horses and Cowards (WordPress Subscriptions Edition) | Observation Blogger

    1. There have been many times when I’ve asked myself “What were you thinking?” This could have gone bad in a heartbeat.

      Well, I guess my answer to that question is, someone needs to protect the defenseless. Somebody had to do something.

      If we all sit around blindly doing nothing, we are irretrievably doomed.

      Thank you for your lovely comments, my friend. 🩶

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  5. Brave woman!

    And we know that if all had stood up and said something, it would have stopped (at least at that moment) before it got out of hand. Maybe opened up a door for compassion and help for the mother, as well, though cops can be good at de-escalation?

    My stomach feels a little sick at reading…but glad you went for the right kind of help, for her, the boy, and you. ❤

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    1. Believe me, Liz …. my stomach was churning, too. I like to think I’m a patient person. However, how anyone could sit there as if nothing was going on is mind-boggling.

      I hope the mother is open to counseling; she’s deeply troubled and at that moment I had very little compassion for her. I’m sure she wasn’t thrilled with me, either!

      Thanks for sharing your thoughts.

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  6. Good for you! I’d’ve been worried that the woman would have started smacking me around. Really, a woman who acts like that in front of a room full of strangers has some serious issues, the kind that require professional help; confronting her as you did took some guts.

    So, what did the police officer do?

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    1. Guts, I guess. Smarts, not so much except remembering the cop was there.

      Good question, John. I don’t really know what happened after I bailed. I told the policewoman what was going on and she didn’t ask me to stick around afterward so I left. The cop was talking to the woman; in fact, a lot of people were talking at that point. Ironic, isn’t it? Hopefully the boy is safe and the mother can’t hurt him anymore.

      Maybe I should have stayed longer but honestly …. I didn’t want to get entangled any more than I already was.

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  7. It took courage in this day and age to say anything to this horrible person. Too many morons have a loaded gun in their purse. So good there was a cop nearby. I think I might have been tempted to carefully record the situation, but I probably wouldn’t have thought about that until after the fact.

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  8. Damn, that woman’s behaviour nagged my bones. I’m glad you did something. Child abuse is not to be allowed. I wonder how those adults could just sit there comfortably and watch. Quite an interesting piece, Nancy. You never disappoint.

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    1. High praise indeed! I wasn’t nearly as cool inside as I pretended to be and my husband wasn’t thrilled with me at all when I told him what happened. It’s dangerous; people can be loose cannons. It was killing me and I had to say something. Besides, I knew there was a cop hanging out in the garage!

      That’s a favorite of mine by CSN&Y. Thanks for stopping by and sharing your thoughts.

      ~ Nancy

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      1. Hi Nancy, as you were recalling the incident, I, myself was thinking, if only a cop was close by and fortunately there was and you knew about their presence prior. So I think you made an informed decision. It wasn’t reckless, on the contrary since you had back-up as it were lol.

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          1. Thanks also for reaffirming my hope in the human spirit and courageous deeds. It reminds me of that quote in the Cameron Crowe movie (We Bought a. Zoo): Sometimes all it takes is just 30 seconds of courage and I promise you something great will come of it’ (or words to that affect).

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  10. Those are some awesome sentences indeed, Nancy, comprising a compelling tale and delivering a message we all need to hear. Thanks!

    I often find myself scripting longer-sentence pieces. Here’s one (a single-sentence poem) published a while back at Months To Years a fine online journal dealing with all medically related works.

    I thought you might like it: – Eggs Over Tokyo – : Life – A Sentence

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    1. Thanks, Ron. I’m usually not so reckless with my physical safety (hey, these days anything can and will happen). What I was witnessing made me want to puke. It was clear something had to be done but no one was willing to do it.

      “Eggs Over Tokyo” sounded familiar to me …. it’s difficult to forget a name like that! It was great reading your angst-riddled piece just now. We’ve all been there, me a little more often than I’d like, and I’m getting the feeling the same is true for you. Your descriptive sentences brought the poem alive for me, reliving some uncomfortable, worrisome moments I’m glad turned out the way they did rather than how I feared.

      An excellent read, Ron. Thanks for the share!

      Enjoy your New England Monday!

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