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Mrs Belmont Forum

It’s grocery day, so Cyclone Sandra will be storming in hot & heavy to her local shopping forum. Staff are in a constant state of red alert as they know the trail of emotional destruction Sandra is capable of. All one can do is hunker down and brace for impact. 

Gusts of thundercunntery begin to pick up out the front of the forum. Once again, Sandra has missed out on one of the VIP mums with prams parking bays. There are loads of other parks around but this isn’t good enough for Sandra. Not by a long shot. 

She snaps photos of the empty disability bays and posts to Facebook, “do the management here even KNOW their car park!?! Loads of disability bays (never taken!!!) and not enough prambays!!!!!!! DONT blame me if I scratch a car getting my praaammm out!!!!!!!”

Christ. How did humans survive as a species without designated prambays? Not to worry, the threat was a bluff. As she had no intention of parking in a spot that would subject her to the horrors of a 20m walk. So she parks in the disability bay anyway. 

Her face is locked in a vicious snarl as she recklessly careens down the footpath with her baby-barger. She isn’t focused on where she’s going because a contact dared to say she gets by without special bays just fine. Back in the real world, a man comments, “hey watch where you’re going!”

She shoots him a stare that could curdle milk. How dare he not accept that her precious children always have right of way. She rolls her eyes, refuses to concede any footpath space and barges past the man. “Learn some manners, mate!” she screeches without a sense of irony. 

Once in the forum, she turns her early-meno-rage to a Big W staff member she deems responsible for the store running out of a tacky piece of home decor.

A more senior staff member comes over and Sandra’s child begins crying. She immediately blames the man’s unhelpful attitude & cheap cologne for the sloppy bowl of upsetti bolognese tossing around in the pram. 

She storms towards the cafe furiously thumb-smashing the keypad on her phone. She has turned red and the way she’s huffing and puffing would be making a lot of pigs fear for their accommodation. Her face straight out looks like the Predators when she orders her coffee. 

Things don’t go to plan. “What do you mean I have to pay for a babycino? Look my daughter is crying now! My daughter is crying, my daughter is crying!!!” The poor girl cops the narcissistic rage of a beast that believes the passing of a placenta gives her the right to stamp out the cigarette of entitlement on the face of society.

 She walks to her car and spends 5 minutes sitting in her car making an obnoxious phone call to her day-time television watching friend. A person who actually has an ACROD sticker finally honks his horn. Turns out he kinda needs the bay.

Sandra boils over like a hormonal pot of pasta and storms towards the man like. “HOW DARE YOU!!! Now my babies are crying!! You pig!!!”

She takes photos of this “rude disabled person” and puts up a post she will almost certainly live to regret. If parking in the spot wasn’t a bad enough idea then calling bullshit on the dude’s total impairment most certainly was.

On the upside perhaps she learned a lesson. Although you know that is total fiction.