To B10 or not to B10? That is the question.
This sounds a lot like Dennis Regan. Oh yeah… And Shakespeare.
This spot reserved for Stephen Hawking.
Sarah CRINGED when her “perfectly able-bodied” blind date pulled into a handicap spot claiming he “deserved it” since his doctor f-d up and he received a “lifetime handicap placard” in lieu of a lawsuit… (FYI… there was NO 2nd date!)
For what must have been the twenty-seventh time, Ned realized he forgot the keys to the absurd, tiny, fenced-in cubicle where he was supposed to lock up the grey trash bin, and with a sigh rolled it beside the gate, the vacuousness of the empty garage making him feel even smaller than he already did.
Jennifer thoughtfully reviewed the many available parking spots and in a moment of sheer pent-up rage against the man, pulled into the handicap spot nearest the elevator.
Margie struggled from the car into the chair and just smiled when the kids exclaimed, “Grandma, it’s AWESOME that we can park here when you’re with us!”
The doctors said she wouldn’t make it, let alone ever get out of bed again but as the couple walked across the empty parking structure hand-in-hand, she glanced at the floor with a sigh of relief and said to her husband, “handicap parking is probably the only thing I’ll miss about cancer.”
The janitor eyed the newly designated handicapped space with a sigh of relief, content in the knowledge that no one would ever know the stains on the concrete were blood.
Helen would always resent using the handicap parking while her mind felt good and her emotions felt good and only her outsides looked abnormal.
It was the subtle shifting of the stem in the capital B that let worker 1310 know, like the subjects he monitored in his job at “Freedom for Americans! Corp.”, he was only invisible so long as he complied and anything less than his total subjugation would result in losses.
As a Vietnam disabled vet, he clearly qualified, but Nick could never bring himself to park in that spot at the massage therapist’s office, partly because he didn’t like to think of himself that way, but mostly because he’d have to run over the image of a man in a wheelchair to do that.
“Damn”, Helen thought, “I can’t park here because it’s for folks without arms and legs, and all I do is use a goddamned cane…”
How could anyone ever think that a handicap was a bio-hazard as well?
“Don’t give me any of your crap–just park where I tell you and keep the engine running,” Jim said, and pulled the ski mask over his face.
This spot for wheelchair bondage only.
Russell always felt uncomfortable playing life-sized handicapped Bingo, but it wasn’t his turn to choose the game.
As the phrase “Not a handicap” echoed in his mind mercilessly, Tom pulled into space 1310, killed the ignition, put the barrel of the gun in his mouth and ended the debate forever.
As a double amputee, Jordan found the universal symbol for handicapped to be offensive and a constant reminder of what he had lost.
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