GET'EM ALL, DAD - complete story from Roads Less Travelled

GET’EM ALL, DAD.

‘Omigod, the traffic! Nightmare time. This is ridiculous. It’s been hours.’ I’m going frantic trying to get there.

‘Get a move on,’ I bellow out to the assles in front. ‘Ten times the traffic and problems, today of all days. It’s never been this bad along here before.’

A sea of vehicles in every direction. All squeezing and jostling to get ahead of everyone else.

‘Calm down, Jeff. Keep your cool.’

‘It’s alright for you to stay cool. You’re not doing the driving. The day’s been awful enough without all this to finish it off. They’re all imbeciles. Look at him, trying to cut in from the side road. He can wait for a proper gap like everybody else. And that dickhead’s going to let that van in. Idiot,’ I yelled out the window.

‘Do it, Dad! Get’em all!’ I got super-supportive kids in the back. They understand these things.

‘Jeff, you’ll have an apoplexy, relax a—'

‘How can I—? Go for it…! That’s it – stop him. Don’t let that one in…’ I’m muttering to myself and ranting out the window at the other traffic.

And Rowena’s beside me non-sympathising with my plight in this heart-attack-inducing chaos. ‘Gently, dear, we’ll get there.’ She’s no help at all.

‘We don’t want to be stuck behind that soddin’ minibus…’

‘Get him, Dad!’ At least the kids were rooted in on my side – no traitors in the back. ‘Get’em all.’

‘Oh my God, no wonder it’s so slow today – one lane’s coned off. What the hell for? Nobody working, of course.’

‘Typical, innit, Dad?’

‘Stone the crows, they’re all coming round the mini-island. They’ve cut through the pub yard and trying to force back in. That’s it – block the buggers off – they gain twenty car lengths doing that.’

‘Not on my dad, you don’t!’ Katie’s leaning out the window in full support, too. ‘You’re not pushing in front of us.’

‘Come on, come on, get a move on. How long does it take, you lard-brained toad? We’ve been bloody hours stuck on this road.’

‘Jeff! You nearly—'

‘He’ll live.’

‘Get this next one as well, Dad.’

‘Mind him, Dad. He’s trying to chop in.’

‘Not this close, he isn’t.’

‘Talk about a white-knuckle ride, Jeff. It’s been—'

‘Thank God for that… Us next.’

Great… Ease forward at last…

Handbrake on. Head out the window.

An over-bright face at the end of all that torment. Have they no sense of the suffering we’ve been through to get here? Grinning like a moron, eyebrows raised in query.

‘Get’em all, Dad,’ I heat from behind me.

I took a deep breath and let it all out:

‘Two Canadian stacks.

And three Big Macks.

All with fries.

And seven cokes, the giant size.

A Double Quarter Pounder with extra mayo and melted cheese.

And bacon rolls – the special offer’s for packs of threes?

Plus salad for three,

And a sharebox filled with cheese and chicken chunks for me.

Five ice cream cones with chocolate flakes, and a salted caramel McFlurry.

And, pleeease – make it fast food – we’re in a hurry.’