Beware The Ones in Black

Memoir 3: Lessons, 2006

 

 

Walking through a crowded aisle. Hurrying around carts, past oblivious shoppers, dodgind sample stands, my grip becomes sweaty. The store's doors obediently slide open for the netering customers, and gradually close on the exiting ones. We make it through and head towards the burnt sienna Volkswagon. Look both ways before you cross the road, hold my hand tight, walk quickly, you don't want to get hit by an irresponsible driver do you?

 

We begin to unload the shopping cart into the trunk. The milk always first. Then anything canned, breakables always on top, you don't want crumbs for chips do you? The food fits perfectly. It always does when you have it correctly placed...all $150.45, 6 coupons, and 2 hours of it. She closes the trunk and tells me to wheel the cart to one of the mid-lot stands, what if you worjed here, would you want to have to round up al lthe stray carts left idly by inconsiderate customers? Make sure its pushed in as far as it can go, don't slam the carts around, push the other carts into place while you're there. You would'nt want to have to organize every stand left in dissaray by lazy people would you?

 

I wheel the cart through the parking lot, around parked cars, past lot signs, until i see the cart stand, in all its mess. Watch for cars, don't push too fast, be considerate of other pedestrians, you wouldnt want to be trampled by a careless kid with a cart would you? I approach the stand, let out a short sigh and proceed in my organization, what if i really did work here? I pick up the pace.

 

When i finish, taking no time to marvel at the order ive brought to stand 1 out of 12, i turn awaiting the old butrnt sienna volkswagon, when a boy walks in front of me, his hair covering his blacked eyes. His hands are stuffed in his deep pants pockets, head down, moving as if through slow motion. Staring is impolite, son't talk to strangers, you wouldn't want to be gawked at would you?

 

I watch the comber boy walk by, not a word is said. Don;t talk to strangersi said! He passes and i can see the burnt sienna volkswagon begin to make its way overto where i stand. I walk towards the passenger's door. He stands outside the store and lights up, as i buckle shotgun. Always wear your seatbelt, the shoulder strap goes across your chest , not under your arm, pull the lap belt tighter! slide your seat all the way back, sit up straight with the shoulder belt ON your shoulder, you wouldn't want to fly through the windsheild if a careless driver happens to hit us would you?

 

I can see her glance over at him, she frowns disaprovingly, he smirks and turns away giving the impression that the robin perched on the power line and the scarcely occupied paved paradise really is that interesting. She looks down at me. Don’t where all black, keep your hair out of your face, piercings are not healthy, your body is the temple of god keep it like that, skulls are evil, dyes ruin your hair, no that’s too much make up, you wouldn’t want people to look at you like that would you, what kind of message are you giving?

 

I get out of my car, the silver 2000 Chevy Impala, scratches… maybe, my silver advertisement, a moving description of all the music i like, all the organizations i support, and all the sarcastic phrases i hurt my sides over. I begin to slowly walk down the parking lot. No hurry. I stuff my hands into my pockets, pulling out a lighter and my pack of lights, the action is almost innate. I take a long drag allowing the smoke to envelope my 'temple of god'... "I just stepped in gum… s**t." When I look up I notice a little girl in a pink jumper to the right of me, her hands are wrapped around the green handle on the cart. I glance at her, and then look away, my bangs falling into my face, keys jingling against my side. I smirk as memories of past shopping trips flood my mind, innocence.

 

I approach the store, and pulling the cigarette from my chapped lips, I turn meeting the gaze of a woman in a Chevy. She looks me up and down then glares and turns the car around, the little girl in the pink jumper at shotgun. I turn away. Don’t stare, its rude, you wouldn’t want people to gawk at you…would you?