Outlaws

You've seen them, hanging around the doorways of pubs, in the street outside restaurants, and in the car parks beside office blocks. They congregate malevolently, glance sinisterly through windows at people sitting having food, or typing at their computer keyboard. Often, they are an ill-assorted lot. Some dressed in suits, collar and tie, others causally attired in jeans and t-shirt.

Huddled in their groups they survive the worst and best of weather, they are female, male, rich, poor, tall and short, they have bonded in the doorways, car parks and out in the streets and have formed themselves into social cabals of informal friendships. Complicated, often convoluted relationships which are cemented in the open air, outside the pub, the restaurant, the office block.

'Look at them' the tall woman with the long blonde hair flicks her ash. 'Smug, self-centred...'
The two men standing with her look round and glance through the restaurant windows.
'They've no idea have they?'

They all shake their head in unison.

At any moment I expected sirens to start screeching, police carrying automatic weapons to come from all directions and to sweep these people up into their vans and drive off. But they don't.

It starts to rain, yet still they huddle, hoods go up, umbrellas are raised, people give them a wide berth. To an alien they might seem like the scum of society, the lowest of the low. No one seems to like them, they are ostracised. Maybe they should be wearing bells around their necks and calling out 'unclean' as they move through the streets or stand in their doorways.

A car goes past spraying water from a puddle and the people in the doorway dance to avoid being soaked.

'Hey!' they all call out as one, the man in the grey suit, the girl in the pink skirt and the man in the jeans and t-shirt. Together they lift their cigarettes to their mouths and pull, then they blow smoke into the sky, they are the new outlaws of society - SMOKERS (cue dramatic and scary music).


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