creative writing · Humor · SAHM

D is for Damsel in Dismay

The day before Easter I bravely ventured out to the grocery store during those peak Saturday shopping times. I don’t know what it’s like where you live, but around here the day before almost every holiday, the grocery store becomes crazy. Everyone is angry and cranky and really don’t give a flying you-know-what how much of a hurry you’re in, cause their in a much bigger hurry, so MOVE! Luckily though, it wasn’t as scary as I thought it would be. Actually, it was almost pleasant. Must be because we’ve had 2 days of rain and finally the sun was showing.

Anyways, I just pushed my very full cart up to my van when I noticed a woman a few cars from mine watching me. Not watching me like she was waiting on someone from inside the store and I just happen to be the most exciting thing happening in front of her. But watching me like…well…like a dog watches humans doing anything.

“What’s she doing? What’s that? I wonder what’s in those bags? Hey! Lady! Bark! Bark! Bark!”

I continued piling the car with my bags, forcing my eyes to not look in her direction again. Here recently there’s been quite a few sightings of people asking for money at gas stations claiming they’re out of money and from out-of-town and can’t get a hold of anyone and blah blah blah. I suppose they think it’s better to lie than to tell the truth, “I need to go buy heroin.” It actually happened to me about a month ago at this same store. Except, unlike now, the store was practically deserted and I was standing alone in the bread aisle. A man-boy came up and said he was trying to get his daughters prescription filled, but didn’t have enough cash and asked if I could help. I might have given him a few bucks, but it was 9 o’clock at night and I knew the pharmacy was closed. Duh, dude, duh. So you can see why I was a little leery of the Chihuahua lady.

I was just about done putting my groceries away when there she was, practically in my cart. “Excuse me!”

I jumped outta my undies!

“I’m sorry, ” she continued, “I didn’t mean to scare you. I just wanted to give you my card.”

Now, probably like a lot you, I immediately thought about that warning going around Facebook where someone hands you their card and it’s got some sort of chemical on it, and you don’t suspect them cause they look so nice, but the next thing you know you’ve been kidnapped and you wake up in the woods covered in blood with a note stuck to your chest saying, “Thanks for the liver.”

But still, I took the card. Idiot.

Well, she looked like one of those moms that sells candles or bags or make-up or kitchen supplies from home. I’ve got a friend for all of those, but I thought I could at least be polite and take her chloroform-soaked business card.

“I sell personal protection products for women. Mace. Stun guns. Stuff like that.”

I couldn’t help but let out a laugh, “Oh my God are you kidding me?”She must get that a lot because she didn’t miss a beat.

“Nope. And I thought you might be interested because…well…you’re out here…alone.”

She said it like she felt sorry for me or something. Trust me, lady. Being alone at the grocery store is a blessing, not a curse.

“Okay,” I said, “That’s cool. Thanks.”

I wish I had asked her if this was like a Tupperware party where my girlfriends and I could see the products placed ever so gently out across a table and maybe sample them. Which mace smelled best and which carrier fit our grip most comfortably. We could taze each other to see which one really had a good kick.

"Oh! This one is gggggggood."
“Oh! This one is gggggggood.”

I joke, but in all honesty, it’s something to think about. Especially since it really creeped me out how that lady got practically right on top of me in the middle of the day without me even noticing or hearing her. I always thought I was pretty observant (like Nick Nolte in 48-hours), but maybe not. I have friends who carry guns and others who have taken self-defense classes. The classes seem more my style, but perhaps a glimpse at this crazy lady’s website isn’t such a bad idea. Plus, I might look pretty hot with a taser strapped to my thigh. I’ll let you know.

Til then, any advice from my bad-ass sisters out there? Or even from bad-ass misters? Thanks in advanced!








2 thoughts on “D is for Damsel in Dismay

  1. Carry a knife. Everywhere. Keep it in the same place everyday, so that if anything ever happens, it’s easy to remember where it is. That’s what I do anyway. The only downside is you can’t visit any government buildings. On second thought, that might not be a downside.

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