Cart-iac Arrest

So, yesterday, I made a trip to the same grocery store where I slipped on the grape in the produce section and pierced my thumb on the sharp piece of plastic sticking out from the bottom of the cart.

I was hoping that this trip would be smooth and sans any major issues, but there was something else in store for me. The scene of the crime: the parking lot.

I was flying solo on this trip to the store, as my trusty sidekick Sarah had a coaching. My mission was to acquire food and drinks for an RA meeting we were required to hold for our residents.

As I was making my way out to the parking lot, to the right of my car, I noticed a little red car with an even littler man in it. He was sitting inside with the door open and reading a magazine. As I came closer to my vehicle, he looked up at me.

"Is this your car?" he kindly inquired.

"Why, yes, it is!" I replied back.

He proceeded to climb out of his car and said, "I came back out and you know what I found?" (No time for me to ask "what?") "I found a cart rammed between your car and mine. And look what it did."

He pointed to a small scratch on his driver's side door and the flush of face began to rival his vehicle's crimson hue.

"And YOU did it!" he growled, growing more and more excited about his wild story.

"I did this? I understand that you must be terribly upset about this sir, but with all due respect, I did not ram a cart into you car." I shook my head.

I really didn't. I actually avoid carts in the parking lot like the plague. I'm careful to return them back after I've used them, and I don't let them touch my car. In fact, I move them away.

"You did do it; there's NO other explanation for it," he cried, waving his arms. "How can you explain a cart being stuck between our two cars? When you were entering the lot, you must've seen the cart and pushed it with your car, thinking you could nudge it away."

AND HERE'S THE KICKER, FOLKS...

"I DO THAT MYSELF; I PUSH CARTS WITH MY CAR," he admitted.

"Then what should make me think that YOU aren't the cause for this -- that you, sir, didn't push the carts in between the cars? Here your are accusing me of doing something that you did not see happen."

The enraged man was blatantly using stupidity to support his logic, which was just unfortunate, but cool because him look even stupider. We went back and forth for awhile, before I resolved that he wasn't going to climb out of his hole.

"I tell you what, since you are so upset about this, why don't we call the police and file a report here and now. I'll get your name, insurance information, plate number, and contact information, and then, we'll go from there."

"NOOOO! I don't want to do that!" he cried. "I will not sit around and wait for the police to come."

"I think it's a good idea, particularly if you're interested in making a case against me. You're going to lose credibility if you don't wait for the authorities." I was trying to help him out.

"NOOOO! I don't want my groceries to spoil." he yelled.

I gave him one last chance as he drove off in a fury. I jotted down his plate number, which I was hoping to be a vanity plate so I could add it to my "Vaine" blog entry, but much to my disappointment, it wasn't.

I found some of the grocery store employees and asked if they saw anyone shoving a cart between our two cars. They had just arrived, but said that there were surveillance cameras that would have captured just who did what. Reassured, I drove back home with my trunkload of goods.

I called the local police office. The sympathetic officer I spoke to said that the crazy man hadn't reported the issue yet and that I did everything I was supposed to do correctly.

So, I don't think I'm going to shop at that grocery store anymore. Three's a charm, but I royally struck out.

A special thanks to Sarah for the witty title.