HUMOR
My Name Is Inigo Montoya. You Stole My Shopping Cart. Prepare to Die.
I was at the store a few days ago and somebody stole my shopping cart.
I left it in one tiny, cramped aisle that contained items I’m sure nobody ever needs and sped away to grab the other things I was there for, leaving behind a 4-pack of toilet paper and a bag of dog biscuits like they were kids in the car.
“You can listen to the radio, but don’t touch the cigarette lighter.”
A shopping cart slows me down. Shopping is all about speed. Gone are the days of dawdling in front of the canned tomatoes. There could be somebody with a gun walking through the front doors right this very minute. Or somebody with COVID also in need of tomatoes hacking their way towards me like a zombie in The Walking Dead.
I was away from my cart for maybe three minutes. (Yes, I know this is what people charged with Endangering Children for leaving their kids in the car tell the judge. “But, Your Honor, I only needed a pack of gum”, and then 30 minutes later the cops roll up because you answered a call and spent 30 minutes talking on your phone while staring at the potato chips).
And then I wasted five minutes walking up and down the empty aisles with a flotilla of Bounty in my arms wondering if I was insane.
