This car pulls in front of me on Death Road and then swerves through a red light into the parking lot of a local Kmart. I had to stop. One, because it was, of course, a red light. And two because, the older I get, the more I realize that I’m just not in that much of a hurry to get anywhere these days. Much less to my local Kmart. Not that there is anything wrong with Kmart. I was actually on my way there as well. I had to return some pants. And they were high quality, reasonably priced pants. It’s just that I decided I needed a prescription more than a new pair of cargos.

I wait through two cycles of this light on Death Road. Apparently, this city thinks that people who shop at Kmart aren’t important enough to get a Green Arrow when their turn comes around. So, when my Arrow finally does appear, I make my way into the parking lot and pull into a space. I notice, as I turn off my engine, that the car that cut me off is parked right in front of me. It is a pretty beat up car, the entire back seat is full of Stuff and Things. There is a beagle poking its head out of the passenger window. And the driver is still inside. Picking his nose.

It has out of state plates. Figures.

I rustle through my Bag of Pants, making sure that my receipt is still inside. It is. During this time, the nasal spelunker has gotten out of his car, and is walking – staggering, really – into the Kmart. I can’t quite make out what he has in his hand, when he breaks into a trot toward the cart return corral. He leans down, and picks up what appears to be a receipt on the ground. He looks it over for a second, glances at me walking toward him, and lets out a strange sound. Kind of between a yelp and a growl. He wads the paper into a ball, and throws it at a 4-Runner.

He doesn’t stagger anymore, and makes his way into the store a few seconds before me. As I walk through the door, I see this man leap toward some children, stomp his foot, and blow a raspberry to them. The little one grabs his mom’s leg as they walk out of the store.

And now, I’m standing behind this weirdo while a lady is trying to return a comforter or something that she probably didn’t buy. I can’t tell exactly what the problem is, but simply from her demeanor, I can tell that this lady is trying to screw this clerk. I’ve seen it a hundred thousand times before. You people aren’t fooling anyone. The Customer Service clerk pawns this woman off to a manager, and moves the line along.

Weirdo leaps up to the desk, and slams down – hard – the item he carried into the store; a box of Trojan condoms. Magnum Trojan condoms. The clerk looks at him from over-top her glasses and then picks up the box of condoms, checking the seals on both ends. She says nothing, and begins The Return Process.

The weirdo catches her attention again, winks, and starts to nod. As if the act of returning a box of Magnum condoms is the greatest undiscovered pickup line of all time. The clerk rolls her eyes at him, lays the money on the counter, and then looks directly at me, hoping I’ll be more normal.

The weirdo struts back to the parking lot again, and I pull the pants out of the bag.

“Hello. I just needed to return these pants,” I said, pulling out my receipt, and trying as hard as I could to show that I was one of the Good Guys.

“That guy gets on my last nerve,” said the clerk, nodding towards the weirdo.

After I got my refund, I walked back out to my car, still parked behind the guy. I got in, sat down, and started the car. And then the weirdo gets back out of his car, and starts to walk toward the store again. With what appears to be another box of condoms.

I drove home. Puzzled… but still not in a hurry.

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