#loose unit

     The look plastered across Jimmy’s face said it all. His car was parked in the handicap zone, he was stood in front of it with a cigarette in his hand and his jaw clenched tight, the PTA Mom with the shit haircut had her finger pointed millimeters away from Jimmy’s nose. Amy had bit another kid, and his mother had taken it upon herself to fuck with the wrong guy. Her shrill Jersey accent pierced through the giggling school-children and roars of engines; “motherfucker, look at me when I’m talking to you!” Her finger swept back her fringe before she prodded him in the chest. “You keep your rat daughter away from my son, you understand?”       “The fuck did you just say?” Jimmy was finally paying attention. He stood up straight, squared his shoulders. “You heard. I said you keep your filthy fucking rat kid away from mine,” the flurry of words left the woman’s mouth in a heartbeat, and Jimmy twitched. It was a forceful twitch, a reactionary twitch, his fist was clenched. He had stopped himself from hitting her, and the woman had noticed. “Oh, big man, gon’na fucking hit me, huh? Go on! I dare ya’!”       “I don’t need to take this.” Jimmy grunted, moving to his trunk, from it he pulled a red fire-axe. “The fuck are you doing?” The woman yelled. Her SUV was parked beside his, engine running with the kid sitting in it. Jimmy hopped up onto the bonnet of the car and rammed the axe through the roof. The kid screamed, and bolted. The woman was screaming obscenities, Jimmy just kept hacking at the car, through the windshield, but he focused most of his attention on the bonnet. By the time he was finished, smoke was rising out the sputtering engine. As he walked past the woman, Jimmy pinged his cigarette in her face.