Low carb, high protein. Hmmmm, looks good. I throw it into my cart. I need avocados and cilanto too. Lobster is on sale. $6.99 a pound. I begin thinking about the rubber bands on their claws. Poor little guys, girls? I'll sneak in tonight and bring a hammer and free them. Then I remember it's a 24 hour grocery store.
"Number 118, number 118!" "Oh, hi how about a pound of provolone, sliced thin."
Two hundred sixty four dollars later, I'm loading the groceries into the back of the Volvo. I always return my cart back to the cart docks, so rude that lazy asses can't take a few steps away from their recently procured bag of Doritos and aeresole cheese in a can to return the cart! I feel like playing bowling ball cart. I give her a good heave and she heads straight for the dock. An unexpected wind gust catches her silver hands and she careens into a massive black Dodge Durango. SMACK, THUD, SCUTTLE SCUTTLE.
Oh shit! I run over to the truck, the cart has begun a game of chase. I catch it and return it where it should have been. The truck is on humongous wheels, the front of the truck is almost chest level to me. I don't see any scratches, or swelling, no bruising. I look around to see if anyone saw me....don't think so.
I search my car floor for paper and pen. I scribble a note on my weekly church offering envelope. "MY CART GOT AWAY FROM ME. IT DIDN'T DO ANY DAMAGE, BUT I THOUGHT I WOULD LEAVE YOU THIS NOTE." I drew a smiley face, tucked it under the wiper and drove away.