“I know it’s probably wrong to fantasize about giving a nun a karate chop in the neck, but I couldn’t help it. She was making me mad.”
― Meg Cabot, Shadowland
I was sitting in the back of the bus minding my own business, as always lost in my own thoughts as the door opened and a little old nun stepped in. She tied her bike onto the rail, turned around to look at me “I want to sit there, I have to watch my bike” “Sure” I said while getting up and going to stand beside her bike.
It didn’t down on me until she was comfortably seated in my spot, that I did not even think before giving up my seat. Years of brainwashing by the catholic school and I still do whatever a nun says, without even blinking. Who the hell does she think she is? I could have said no. She could have gotten another seat. She could at least have said “please”. “Thank you” she said as I was still processing the chain of events. “You know I can’t stand in the bus”. Poor old lady. A slave of the patriarchy, who spend her whole life praying and denouncing all the fun things life offers. She doesn’t know any better. And what has she gotten left? She is alone and weak. Her phone rang. Her bag still in the bike basket. She turned to two people standing beside the door “Can you give me my bag; I think my phone is ringing” They gave her the phone. “I’m on my way. I’m in the bus. Can you please call me later? Thank you” So she is able to say please, when ordering people around. I was fighting with myself about how to feel about the whole situation. Yes, she is an old lady, but not old ladies start to command strangers around in the bus. And not old ladies are nice ladies.
I remember kindergarten in the convent. There was a kid running back and forth, screaming something, laughing. The nun could not get him to sit still, she had tried everything. Well, almost everything. She went to get another nun. The older ones were always scarier. They had grey hair and moustaches. They were always polite and nice around the parents but there was no sign of it when the parents were gone. Both nuns were screaming at him, telling him to stop. He tried. He really did but he had too much energy to sit around in silence. The old nun said something to the other, which left. She wasn’t saying anything anymore and the kids got quiet. A silent nun was never a good sign. The kid stopped for a moment, feeling the energy of the room fall.
He started an argument with the old one. Not a very bright little fellow. The other nun came back and both ladies grabbed him each by an arm and forced him on a stool. They were screaming at each other until the younger nun rolled out the duct tape. The cold smell invaded the room even before the piercing sound reached the kids ears. They rolled it around his uniform, taping him onto the stool. He was screaming and crying. The other kids watching in silence, not knowing what to do. Not fully comprehending what was going on before their eyes. The brown tape was now wrapped around the little kid a few times, like a boa constrictor, his mouth taped shut. The ladies towering in front of him.
Aromatic deception 