(Alternatively: Channeling The Lunatic)
I finished up at the gym and dashed over to Target for a handful of items. Like 1000 times before, I grabbed a cart, threw in my gigantic purse and rolled toward the back. As is my habit, I would work my way forward, picking up what I needed and perusing the wide aisles for all sorts of things I didn’t.
Which explains why I was in the camping aisle. I don’t particularly like to camp, but there are so many good reasons to wander this aisle. For one, camping is apparently all about the latest gadgets and I do love a good gadget. I also like to look at the outdoorsy pictures on the lanterns and tents and breathe in the imaginary fresh air. Most important, it’s usually devoid of people, making it particularly perusable.
The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
I stopped to check out the lovely insulated bags and decided I really need to have one. Choosing a pattern was going to take all of my attention and I stood transfixed for a minute. Or two. I had a notion of another person rolling by, but only vaguely. In the way you shuffle forward a bit to make room for two-way cart traffic while still focusing on the items on the shelf.
Got to keep the loonies on the path
I settled on the purple floral and got about four feet when I realized someone had put children’s clothing in my cart. Why would someone do that? And what happened to my paper plates? No. They hadn’t switched items with me, they had switched carts. Whoops, I thought. Some shopper as distracted as me. Won’t they feel silly when they realize they have the wrong cart…I looked around. Not a soul in sight. I thought about the things I had already ‘bought’ and how I was going to have to retrace my steps and reload this bogus cart.
And then I remembered my purse.
My whole life was in that purse. Oh shit. Cell phone, credentials, credit cards, camera, a just cashed paycheck…I felt dizzy and started to sweat. My hands were clammy and my face flushed with shame… How could I be so careless? I ran up and down empty aisles, my brain racing.
“Help,” I croaked, the massive hands of fear and panic squeezing my throat.
I remembered a story of a molester who grabbed a small child in an amusement park. Within minutes, the park sealed the exits and the child was found – already drugged and disguised by the perp. That fast. My heart was racing. That fast. Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.
“MY BABY!!!!”
Three red shirted teenagers appeared, all asking questions. “What’s wrong?” “What else was in the cart?” Where did you leave your baby?”
They kept trying to calm me down. I realized this must be part of their training. I had to explain that it wasn’t an actual baby, but my purse. My purse! I heard myself babbling about the size and shape of the red cart…
The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
“SEAL THE EXITS!!” I was breathing hard, building up steam, feeling violated. Why were the red shirts just standing there? DO SOMETHING! And it hit me. I was creating a public disturbance. Just the tiniest glimpse and it hit me. Crazy. It’s in the eyes. It was in their eyes…Suddenly I was backing away. They think I’m crazy!
It was the point of no return. Someone was making off with my well-ordered life tucked neatly in a shoulder bag.
“Do or die, baby,” I mumbled to myself.
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
I hated that look in their eyes, what I imagined they saw. Meanwhile, some predator was getting away with robbing me because I was too chicken to risk being looked at as crazy. The robber knew my head, knew I would play by the rules and that would be too slow.
I stepped into the abyss.
The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
“CHECK THE CAMERAS! NOBODY LEAVES!!” I jumped up and down. I waved my arms. I ran faster, getting louder, covering as much ground as possible with every leap and bound. I knew the robber had to be within hearing distance for it to work. I had to send a message that I was not going to go down quietly. I had to get in his head.
“STOP! THIEF! CALL THE POLICE!”
Shoppers gaped. Children pointed. Red-shirts were calling managers on walkie-talkies. I ran to the registers. STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING! I stood at the front door, feet planted, arms crossed, jolly-green-giant-style. Now what do I do?
I felt my resolve weakening. This sucked. I was the victim and yet there was some real hostility being directed at me now.
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me.
I fed the lunatic with mental images of what the future might hold: quite possibly leaving Target in handcuffs…losing all my cell phone contacts…having to go to DMV for a new license…
“You there!” I pointed at a red-shirted girl who’s eyes were bugging out of her head. “THIS IS A CODE RED! NOBODY LEAVES UNTIL WE FIND MY PURSE!”
Inwardly, I bargained with God: Please God, just let me get my credit cards and the picture of Flower and I will never ever ever leave my purse unattended in the baby seat again...
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
It worked. The boy from electronics came huffing and puffing to the front, pushing a cart. My cart. “I found it!” he called out. “I found it! It looks like everything is here: your purse, your wallet, even your paper plates.”
I hadn’t realized there was a buzzing in my head until it suddenly stopped. All I could hear was the collective sigh of red-shirted relief. And Pink Floyd.
Suddenly, I was exhausted. I felt myself crumpling from the inside out and I thought I might start crying hysterically. I picked up my purse and wondered if I would make it to my car before my knees buckled. The bug-eyed girl was saying something…
“See! It was all just a mix-up. Probably the customer realized it wasn’t their cart and just left it.”
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
I strode back over to her and leaned in close - a little too close. “Honey,” I said. “If you believe that – you’re crazy.”
I finished up at the gym and dashed over to Target for a handful of items. Like 1000 times before, I grabbed a cart, threw in my gigantic purse and rolled toward the back. As is my habit, I would work my way forward, picking up what I needed and perusing the wide aisles for all sorts of things I didn’t.
Which explains why I was in the camping aisle. I don’t particularly like to camp, but there are so many good reasons to wander this aisle. For one, camping is apparently all about the latest gadgets and I do love a good gadget. I also like to look at the outdoorsy pictures on the lanterns and tents and breathe in the imaginary fresh air. Most important, it’s usually devoid of people, making it particularly perusable.
The lunatic is on the grass
The lunatic is on the grass
Remembering games and daisy chains and laughs
I stopped to check out the lovely insulated bags and decided I really need to have one. Choosing a pattern was going to take all of my attention and I stood transfixed for a minute. Or two. I had a notion of another person rolling by, but only vaguely. In the way you shuffle forward a bit to make room for two-way cart traffic while still focusing on the items on the shelf.
Got to keep the loonies on the path
I settled on the purple floral and got about four feet when I realized someone had put children’s clothing in my cart. Why would someone do that? And what happened to my paper plates? No. They hadn’t switched items with me, they had switched carts. Whoops, I thought. Some shopper as distracted as me. Won’t they feel silly when they realize they have the wrong cart…I looked around. Not a soul in sight. I thought about the things I had already ‘bought’ and how I was going to have to retrace my steps and reload this bogus cart.
And then I remembered my purse.
My whole life was in that purse. Oh shit. Cell phone, credentials, credit cards, camera, a just cashed paycheck…I felt dizzy and started to sweat. My hands were clammy and my face flushed with shame… How could I be so careless? I ran up and down empty aisles, my brain racing.
“Help,” I croaked, the massive hands of fear and panic squeezing my throat.
I remembered a story of a molester who grabbed a small child in an amusement park. Within minutes, the park sealed the exits and the child was found – already drugged and disguised by the perp. That fast. My heart was racing. That fast. Suddenly, I knew what I had to do.
“MY BABY!!!!”
Three red shirted teenagers appeared, all asking questions. “What’s wrong?” “What else was in the cart?” Where did you leave your baby?”
They kept trying to calm me down. I realized this must be part of their training. I had to explain that it wasn’t an actual baby, but my purse. My purse! I heard myself babbling about the size and shape of the red cart…
The lunatic is in the hall
The lunatics are in my hall
“SEAL THE EXITS!!” I was breathing hard, building up steam, feeling violated. Why were the red shirts just standing there? DO SOMETHING! And it hit me. I was creating a public disturbance. Just the tiniest glimpse and it hit me. Crazy. It’s in the eyes. It was in their eyes…Suddenly I was backing away. They think I’m crazy!
It was the point of no return. Someone was making off with my well-ordered life tucked neatly in a shoulder bag.
“Do or die, baby,” I mumbled to myself.
And if your head explodes with dark forebodings too
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
I hated that look in their eyes, what I imagined they saw. Meanwhile, some predator was getting away with robbing me because I was too chicken to risk being looked at as crazy. The robber knew my head, knew I would play by the rules and that would be too slow.
I stepped into the abyss.
The lunatic is in my head
The lunatic is in my head
“CHECK THE CAMERAS! NOBODY LEAVES!!” I jumped up and down. I waved my arms. I ran faster, getting louder, covering as much ground as possible with every leap and bound. I knew the robber had to be within hearing distance for it to work. I had to send a message that I was not going to go down quietly. I had to get in his head.
“STOP! THIEF! CALL THE POLICE!”
Shoppers gaped. Children pointed. Red-shirts were calling managers on walkie-talkies. I ran to the registers. STOP WHAT YOU’RE DOING! I stood at the front door, feet planted, arms crossed, jolly-green-giant-style. Now what do I do?
I felt my resolve weakening. This sucked. I was the victim and yet there was some real hostility being directed at me now.
You lock the door
And throw away the key
There's someone in my head but it's not me.
I fed the lunatic with mental images of what the future might hold: quite possibly leaving Target in handcuffs…losing all my cell phone contacts…having to go to DMV for a new license…
“You there!” I pointed at a red-shirted girl who’s eyes were bugging out of her head. “THIS IS A CODE RED! NOBODY LEAVES UNTIL WE FIND MY PURSE!”
Inwardly, I bargained with God: Please God, just let me get my credit cards and the picture of Flower and I will never ever ever leave my purse unattended in the baby seat again...
And if the cloud bursts, thunder in your ear
You shout and no one seems to hear
It worked. The boy from electronics came huffing and puffing to the front, pushing a cart. My cart. “I found it!” he called out. “I found it! It looks like everything is here: your purse, your wallet, even your paper plates.”
I hadn’t realized there was a buzzing in my head until it suddenly stopped. All I could hear was the collective sigh of red-shirted relief. And Pink Floyd.
Suddenly, I was exhausted. I felt myself crumpling from the inside out and I thought I might start crying hysterically. I picked up my purse and wondered if I would make it to my car before my knees buckled. The bug-eyed girl was saying something…
“See! It was all just a mix-up. Probably the customer realized it wasn’t their cart and just left it.”
And if the band you're in starts playing different tunes
I'll see you on the dark side of the moon
I strode back over to her and leaned in close - a little too close. “Honey,” I said. “If you believe that – you’re crazy.”
Bonus: Young Pink Floyd/Brain Damage
Both frightening and funny.Extremely well written!
ReplyDeleteI love this story, so well told.
ReplyDelete