The Bronze Lady
There was a crunch and the chariot lurched. Another puppy gone. A scream from the owner.
“Watch where you’re going, you maniac!”
“Shut up, shut up!” Boudicca yelled. She maneuvered the chariot further into the dog park. This clearly hadn’t been a good idea.
“Are you insane?”
“I’m trying to give the horses some exercise!” she shouted over her shoulder. There were too many trees here for a good run.
“They’re bronze! Why do they need exercise?” someone yelled.
“Well, I don’t need to kick your arse, but I still might,” she said, pulling back a bronze foot to emphasize her point.
It was no good anyway; the heavy wheels were sinking into the turf. She turned around and retreated.
As she rode back sadly along Bridge Street to her pedestal, cars honking behind her, she sighed. There was no place in this modern world for a bronze woman. It was lonely, being the only one of her kind. If only her friend the Iron Lady were still alive.