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A Little Mean Fun

Recently, I drove down to the local Wal-mart to pick up some cold medicine. Parked my car in the crowded lot, and wandered in.

Approaching the front entrance, I saw a 25-ish blonde in a black velvet running suit (no one actually runs in those, do they?) get out of a new, black sporty-looking Volvo with very dark tinted windows and scoot in ahead of me. What grabbed my attention was that she parked in the red no-parking zone right in front of the entrance, turned on her blinking amber hazard lights, shut the door and tooted the car alarm on.

Giving her the benefit of the doubt, telling myself that maybe she was an employee dropping by for a paycheck or something, I noted where she went in the store, but noticed that, like me, she was headed to a section of the store away from employee only areas, instead clacking her high heels straight back to Ladies Shoes, where she immediately began rummaging through the bargains.

Not being the confrontational type, but wanting to right this obvious indiscretion on her part — I mean, who does she think she is? Too big of a deal to park in the lined parking spaces like the rest of us? — I walked to the shoe aisle next to hers and as I aligned myself in roughly the same position as her in the adjacent aisle, I flipped open my cell phone (in case anyone was watching) and began what was supposed to sound like the middle of an ongoing phone conversation. I stopped directly across from her, hidden by racks of shoes between her and me, and continued my end of the “conversation” in a louder voice:

“Yeah, you can say what you want about Wal-mart, but I tell you they are on top of things around here,” I projected. “I swear, some chick in a black Volvo just parked her car in front of the store, you know, in the no parking zone for old people? Yeah… right. And I swear it wasn’t 15 seconds and they already have a tow truck rackin’ her up!”

That was as far as I got, when on the other side of the aisle I heard a muttered common expletive layered over the sound of a box hitting the floor, and then fast and furious clacking heading toward the front of the store. I stepped around the endcap to catch a view as this no-more-pretense little princess-of-a-thing ran the 100 meters to the front doors in record time. She flung herself into her car, and pulled away heading for Peasant Parking.

Sometimes I kill me!

5 Comments

  1. You kill me too!! Very funny and Well done! You did what many of us would like to do , but don’t for whatever reason.
    Loved it.!!!

  2. ROFL! That is awesome! Very well executed indeed. I agree with Kay, that’s definitely something we all would love to do, but don’t… and I think maybe it’s because we don’t figure out such a fun way to do it!

    P.S. Tina loved the story too!

  3. I sent this story to all my natural blonde friends, and those with “color added” and got back a bunch of fun responses. My favorite was from Greta:

    “This seems apropros for us today. Wally got hemmed in with his van today in a handicapped parking spot because a dimwit woman parked her Buick LeSabre in the striped area where he needs to open his ramp to get out. The Safeway manager paged her four times, and finally the manager called for a tow truck. The dimwit finally came out, after we stood around for 45 minutes (fortunately, it was under 100 degrees, at last). She sort of apologized and thought she could move her car over into the half-space left in the handicap spot by someone else. We told her what she was doing was illegal. We had planned to really lay it on her, after waiting so long, but felt sorry that she was so dimwitted, old, and possibly blind that we laid off. But she shouldn’t be driving!!! One of the negatives of living in a retirement community.”

  4. priceless! thanks for being super smart(er) than all of us and using your quick wit to do what we all love…or would love to do. thankfully she was listening. ha! excellent spy skills.

  5. You KNOW I like that one.

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