In Line

Standing in line, eleven items in hand, I looked for anything to distract me from the drab existence of waiting in procession. I clutched my purchases tightly, feeling overwhelmed by my own fool hearty nature. I didn’t intend to make a basket’s worth of purchases, nor did I intend to balance all of these good in my arms. Peering in every direction I looked to see if anyone else was suffering from the “consumer profiling” the 10 Items Or Less Line inflicted on us all.

Unfortunately, in nearly every direction I chose to gaze the lowest forms of life seemed to be swarming amidst the line. The children swung from cart to cart like retarded chimps, occasionally latching on to their mother’s sagging flesh. With one whelp slung over the mother’s shoulder it was clear that another one on the way. The children, crusted with chocolate and filth looked as if they emerged from the wallow their mother was conceived in. while one squealed another yelled, each one speaking it’s own primitive language. Paying heed to neither patron, nor proprietor, the children ran about in circles, carelessly knocking items off the shelves. They continued their rampage of chaos, throwing random assortments of candy and other into their cart; one of the children tripped and fell flat on his face.

He landed face first on the unforgiving linoleum tile, while his good times could be easily stopped, it was apparent his momentum could not. Though no accurate measurement could be made one could safely assume that he slid on his face for at least a foot or two. The force at which he made contact with the ground left a smear of chocolate and dirt on the already grimy floor. The dirt spawn’s mother immediately yelled for the manager, ignoring her wounded son, and began jabbering about lawsuits and safety. As the once shrieking child let out a delayed wail, the blanket covering the child slung over the mother’s shoulder fell to the floor. The creature nested upon the mothers shoulder was likened to that of a living abortion, the organism belonged in a jar, not a grocery store. While I stared in horror at the tiny abomination I soon became aware of the bawling of the wounded animal on the floor.

Its cries for the mother went unheard as she continued to badger the manager for compensation for the well-earned misfortune of her son. While attempting to get up from the ground began convulsing, fully enveloped in the full throws of a tantrum. The red fluid running from his consisted of equal parts blood and snot. Glaring at this child I could see that this was the first time his bad behavior had actually been punished.

A welcomed call from the cashier proclaimed me next, a status I gladly accepted. While I stepped over the pile of grime and social waste, I couldn’t help but to laugh to my self. This out of control child, for a brief moment, was the furthest he had ever been from being a brat. He felt humility and say the consequences for his poor behavior, and all because I tripped him.


*If by some chance this was your child I apologize. I will do everything I can to make it so you are no longer allowed to breed.


Exile

Original_exile@hotmail.com