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| The Horrors of Shopping Near a Liberal |
After shopping at my local department store, I stood in line waiting to check out my goods, eager to get home before the snowstorm blew in. I am not a patient shopper, nor am I fond of large crowds who push, shove and ram their carts up my heels when I stop to browse a store shelf. My mood was less than pleasant.
In the checkout line ahead of me were a young man, obviously a liberal, and his small daughter, the latter of which squirmed in the cart seat, grabbing fistfuls of candy that lined the shelf next to her.
I couldn’t see what the man handed to the anxious child, but she found it fascinating and immediately ceased her fussing.
The cashier ran up his purchases, announced the total and waited for payment to be rendered. The man’s focus was on his daughter as he giggled and cooed, totally oblivious to the fact that a line was forming behind him waiting for him to pay and move on.
I cleared my throat and shifted from one foot to another, hoping the liberal snob would notice my irritation and quickly complete his sale. The snow outside was beginning to fall harder.
The man was coaxing his daughter, who couldn’t have been more than two years old, into giving something back to him, while the cashier snapped her chewing gum and inspected a chip in her neon-blue nail polish.
I stepped sideways and cranked my head to see what was causing the holdup. I saw a credit card secured firmly in the little girl’s fist.
“Daddy needs his credit card, sweetie,” the guy said to his daughter, “so that I can pay the nice lady.”
“No!” snapped the child.
“Please?” begged Daddy-liberal.
“No!”
“Pretty Pleeease?”
“No!”
My choices were to strangle someone or take a deep, cleansing breath. I sucked in a calming breath, spun around to the woman behind me and shook my head in disgust. She rolled her eyes and turned to the man behind her to assess his reaction.
“But honey,” the father continued in his baby-talk tone, “you have to give Daddy his credit card back so we can go home to Mommy.”
“No!”
I judged the distance between the child and me. If I angled my body properly I could have reached around the idiot, grabbed the credit card from the little snot’s hand and passed it over to the cashier.
“If Daddy buys you some candy will you give back the credit card?” he pleaded.
“No!”
This nonsense continued for a few more minutes until I couldn’t take it anymore. My feet were killing me. I was getting claustrophobic because the strange woman behind me was snuggling up a little too close for comfort.
I tapped daddy-liberal on the shoulder.
“Excuse me,” I said harshly and most inappropriately, “why don’t you take control of this situation and just yank the card out of her hand!”
He smiled sweetly and replied, “Well, Dr. Spock says....”
“I don’t give a hoot about Dr, Spock,” I replied, “I would, however, like to get home sometime today.”
He narrowed his eyes, gave me the cold shoulder and continued to play cutesy with the Child of the Corn, who was now slobbering and chewing on his credit card.
The idiocy continued until liberal Daddy apparently said whatever magic words she needed to hear. She released the card; he paid for his purchases and moved on.
I am not sure if the times have changed that much or if I have failed to change with the times. I shudder to think how bad things will be when I am seventy-years old, with a cane in hand, and I get stuck behind some liberal jerk who thinks it’s proper to surrender all of his adult authority to an infant.
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Posted by JCWinters on 2009-11-08 10:15:46 | Rating: | Views: 46
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