Picking up speed, coasting down the back side of Jerkapalooza with Part 4 of her five-part series, Mrs. Hillbilly Mom wheels her cart/walker down the main aisle of The Devil's Playground, careful to keep right, as with accepted traffic flow on the highways and byways and discount store aisles of the United States of America.
After darting out from under the Wheels of Death launched at me by the no-longer-chatting Old Goat, I slowed my cart-walker down in preparation for a right turn into the condiments aisle to pick up a plastic jar of Kraft Real Mayo mayonnaise. I could not turn in, though, because somebody was coming out. At her own pace. On her own terms.
I stopped my cart/walker, expecting Lady Cartsworth to come on out. But no. She had a little Cartsworthlet orbiting her like a satellite. This boy was probably around 4 years old. Old enough to know better. But did Lady Cartsworth insist that he stay near, perhaps grasping her shorts-tails? No. She let him roam, as free as a buffalo at home on the range. The Cartsworthlet cavorted like a hybrid deer/antelope, this way and that way, and this way and that way, like an oft-seen laddie, taking up first the aisle opening on the left side of his mother's cart, and then the aisle opening on the right side of his mother's cart. Let the record show that plenty of discouraging words flitted through my mind. But I held them in.
I politely waited for Lady Cartsworth to corral her boy young 'un and finally exit the aisle and allow room for me to enter. And do you know what she did?
SHE SMIRKED AT ME!
That's right. Not even the common courtesy to say, "Excuse me," or "He's wound up today," or just a simple "Sorry." There I was, waiting, waiting...and she SMIRKED at me. Like she was the one in the right, and I was the one in the wrong! Like she OWNED that aisle, and how dare I expect her child to cease his shenanigans so that I might complete my shopping before nightfall. SMIRKED at me! Like, "Sucks to be you."
I daresay Lady Cartsworth could have taken a lesson from the harried mom down at the other main aisle past the Kraft Real Mayo. SHE was standing (in the middle of the main aisle, of course) surrounded by her five children of assorted ages, giving them a lecture on how to behave in the store!
I'm pretty sure she has never been a best-seller at The Jerk Store.