After work I swung by the grocery store. I needed cashews, popcorn, celery, and dog biscuits (you know, the essentials).
There was this redneck dude with two small kids. Around 5 years old, one had a mullet and the other had a mohawk with a rat tail. Yes, this kind of hair still happens in Missouri. I’m sorry.
The kids were behaving poorly, and he didn’t give a shit. Well, they were in front of me in the self-checkout area. I start wobbling, because one of the kids was trying get a penny from under my shoe and was shoving my foot out of his way.
His dad was all, “Hey now, knock it off. You can’t get in people’s way like that. She could accidentally step on your hand and then she’d feel bad.” That last part was said with an expectant look my way. I guess I was supposed to reinforce this message.
Instead I replied, “Actually I’d be more upset about having to clean off my shoes. Since I’d have blood and gunk from your hands stuck to the bottom of my shoe.”
Anyhoo, I got some aghast looks from the three of them, so I smiled and went back to checking out my stuff.