Timothy123790
02-24-2006, 03:30 PM
My Mom's birthday is just a few days away, so I went to pick out her present today. She had mentioned that she wanted a certain Boyd's Bear for her collection. It was just released, and there is only one store that carries these bears in my town, so off I went to scout this bear out.
I arrived at the shop early this morning and the parking lot was packed. I spent ten minutes driving around trying to find a spot. I almost considered stuffing a jacket under my shirt to take advantage of the "stork parking,'' which is a parking spot right at the front where only pregnant woman can park.
Finally, I found a spot. When I went into the store, the sounds of little kids screaming and crying greeted me. Oh, how I love those little bundles of joy. A sales associate immediately accosted me to ask if I needed assistance. This guy had an uncanny resemblance to Urkle, minus the high-pitched winey voice. This only further compounded the already surreal feeling I had being at this place. I rarely go out in public, and when I do, my anxiety sky-rockets. I really did need his help, as I had no idea where the bears were, but I declined due to my nervousness.
I wandered around the store and played the "What's the most retarded item in stock game" to quell my anxiety. This is when I passed the men's boxers section. I was immediately torn between the WWF boxers and the Tazmanian devil boxers. I'm pretty sure that this merchandise targets bachelor's. I cannot imagine a woman that could take a man wearing either of these articles seriously.
Yet, I digress. After passing other meaningless items of consumerism, I finally arrived at the aisle I sought. Sitting poised in between various obscenly stupid Valentine's Day merchandise was the 2006 F.o.b kit, the exact bear that my Mom wanted.
As I walked over to the bear, an elderly woman with a shoping cart was heading down the aisle. I quickened my pace and found myself standing directly in front of the bear. It was the last one. Apparently, these things are quite popular. Anyway, I put the bear in my basket and headed on a quest for a couple of other items I needed (a new shower curtain, a pack of Hanes black t-shirts, and a new set of bath towels). The elderly woman grumbled something under her breath. All I could make out was "bear". She gave me the coldest stare I could fathom. I'm thinking "What the ####? I got there first; it wasn't like I beat you over the head with your cane and stole the bear from your arthritic fingers while you lay on the ground unconcious."
So I did a u-turn with my buggy to go get the other items I came for. I turned around to find the old woman about 15 feet behind me. She had a malicious look in her eyes. I quickened my pace and dodged behind a clothes rack. I started sifting through various sweaters, and came upon a really soft charmuse that was on sale. Upon notiing that it was my size, I turned around to put it in my basket. At this point, I noticed the bear was gone!
This is war, granny. I left my buggy and fervently began to pursue the thief. I found that ####ing bear fair and square, and I was not about to be owned by an elderly woman with blue hair. At this point, there are no words to even describe how ####ing pissed I am. The nerve!!
I came upon her abandoned buggy in Aisle 4. No bear, and no site of the old ####. I start into a light jog, and stop after about 10 feet. I'm panting and curse myself for starting smoking. Nevermind the lung cancer and wrinkly skin that carcinogens spawn, smoking causes you to lack the stamina needed when pursuing a suspect on foot. I step up my pace to a brisk walk. Still no sign of the old woman. As I'm heading back toward the front the store, I see her obese frame exiting the building in the distance. By the time I get out of the store, the old woman is backing out of a handicapped parking spot in a blue cadillac. ####. Now, there are two options. I could either let her get away with this crime, or I could follow her. I choose the latter.
I run to my car. I can see her driving past me in my review mirror. I back out, and I'm immediately on her tail. I follow her about three blocks to a red light. At this point, my determination to acquire back what was rightfully mine was in high gear. About five minutes later, we arrive at a concrete block home in a sparsly populated neighborhood. After assessing the situation, I decide I'm going to confront this #####, and pull in immediately behind her.
We get out of our vehicles. She turns and looks at me with amazement. I smile.
"Hi, remember me?"
She's dumbfounded.
"I know you stole that bear out of my buggy, and I am here to collect it. I will use force if necessary."
"I didn't take no bear. If you don't leave immediately, I will call the cops and report you as a trespasser."
I walk up to her lumpy frame and stare into her prune whip face. "I am leaving here with that bear."
She slams her Cadillac door and starts making the ascent to her front door. I follow, rabid with impatience. She screams at me to leave, and I knock the keys from her hand. She starts to bend over to pick them up, visibly shaking, and I kick her cane out from under her. She falls flat on the ground, and I grab the keys. She struggles desperately to get up. I head to her trunk, open it up, and with glory discover the bear (her only purchase). I snatch it up, and see the old woman directly beside me. She's frothing at the mouth with anger. She jabs me in the stomach with her cane, and I drop the bear and clutch on to my abdomen.
As she makes a dash for the bear, I kick her directly in the knee cap. She lets out a string of expletives and is left incapacited in her driveway, as I back out with my rightfully proclaimed 2006 F.o.b. kit. As I back out, she shakes her fist at me with conviction, like "I'm going to get you for this!!!"
No dice, grandma. While it might seem a bit brash to use force on an old woman, I believe I took the only course of action prescribed. The fact is that I had the bear and she stole it from me, lied about it, and got caught. I don't think anyone should get away with this, even if they are old.
So the end of the story is I have acquired the ultimate b-day present for my Mom, and essentially didn't have to pay for it, since I stole it back from the culprit.
I arrived at the shop early this morning and the parking lot was packed. I spent ten minutes driving around trying to find a spot. I almost considered stuffing a jacket under my shirt to take advantage of the "stork parking,'' which is a parking spot right at the front where only pregnant woman can park.
Finally, I found a spot. When I went into the store, the sounds of little kids screaming and crying greeted me. Oh, how I love those little bundles of joy. A sales associate immediately accosted me to ask if I needed assistance. This guy had an uncanny resemblance to Urkle, minus the high-pitched winey voice. This only further compounded the already surreal feeling I had being at this place. I rarely go out in public, and when I do, my anxiety sky-rockets. I really did need his help, as I had no idea where the bears were, but I declined due to my nervousness.
I wandered around the store and played the "What's the most retarded item in stock game" to quell my anxiety. This is when I passed the men's boxers section. I was immediately torn between the WWF boxers and the Tazmanian devil boxers. I'm pretty sure that this merchandise targets bachelor's. I cannot imagine a woman that could take a man wearing either of these articles seriously.
Yet, I digress. After passing other meaningless items of consumerism, I finally arrived at the aisle I sought. Sitting poised in between various obscenly stupid Valentine's Day merchandise was the 2006 F.o.b kit, the exact bear that my Mom wanted.
As I walked over to the bear, an elderly woman with a shoping cart was heading down the aisle. I quickened my pace and found myself standing directly in front of the bear. It was the last one. Apparently, these things are quite popular. Anyway, I put the bear in my basket and headed on a quest for a couple of other items I needed (a new shower curtain, a pack of Hanes black t-shirts, and a new set of bath towels). The elderly woman grumbled something under her breath. All I could make out was "bear". She gave me the coldest stare I could fathom. I'm thinking "What the ####? I got there first; it wasn't like I beat you over the head with your cane and stole the bear from your arthritic fingers while you lay on the ground unconcious."
So I did a u-turn with my buggy to go get the other items I came for. I turned around to find the old woman about 15 feet behind me. She had a malicious look in her eyes. I quickened my pace and dodged behind a clothes rack. I started sifting through various sweaters, and came upon a really soft charmuse that was on sale. Upon notiing that it was my size, I turned around to put it in my basket. At this point, I noticed the bear was gone!
This is war, granny. I left my buggy and fervently began to pursue the thief. I found that ####ing bear fair and square, and I was not about to be owned by an elderly woman with blue hair. At this point, there are no words to even describe how ####ing pissed I am. The nerve!!
I came upon her abandoned buggy in Aisle 4. No bear, and no site of the old ####. I start into a light jog, and stop after about 10 feet. I'm panting and curse myself for starting smoking. Nevermind the lung cancer and wrinkly skin that carcinogens spawn, smoking causes you to lack the stamina needed when pursuing a suspect on foot. I step up my pace to a brisk walk. Still no sign of the old woman. As I'm heading back toward the front the store, I see her obese frame exiting the building in the distance. By the time I get out of the store, the old woman is backing out of a handicapped parking spot in a blue cadillac. ####. Now, there are two options. I could either let her get away with this crime, or I could follow her. I choose the latter.
I run to my car. I can see her driving past me in my review mirror. I back out, and I'm immediately on her tail. I follow her about three blocks to a red light. At this point, my determination to acquire back what was rightfully mine was in high gear. About five minutes later, we arrive at a concrete block home in a sparsly populated neighborhood. After assessing the situation, I decide I'm going to confront this #####, and pull in immediately behind her.
We get out of our vehicles. She turns and looks at me with amazement. I smile.
"Hi, remember me?"
She's dumbfounded.
"I know you stole that bear out of my buggy, and I am here to collect it. I will use force if necessary."
"I didn't take no bear. If you don't leave immediately, I will call the cops and report you as a trespasser."
I walk up to her lumpy frame and stare into her prune whip face. "I am leaving here with that bear."
She slams her Cadillac door and starts making the ascent to her front door. I follow, rabid with impatience. She screams at me to leave, and I knock the keys from her hand. She starts to bend over to pick them up, visibly shaking, and I kick her cane out from under her. She falls flat on the ground, and I grab the keys. She struggles desperately to get up. I head to her trunk, open it up, and with glory discover the bear (her only purchase). I snatch it up, and see the old woman directly beside me. She's frothing at the mouth with anger. She jabs me in the stomach with her cane, and I drop the bear and clutch on to my abdomen.
As she makes a dash for the bear, I kick her directly in the knee cap. She lets out a string of expletives and is left incapacited in her driveway, as I back out with my rightfully proclaimed 2006 F.o.b. kit. As I back out, she shakes her fist at me with conviction, like "I'm going to get you for this!!!"
No dice, grandma. While it might seem a bit brash to use force on an old woman, I believe I took the only course of action prescribed. The fact is that I had the bear and she stole it from me, lied about it, and got caught. I don't think anyone should get away with this, even if they are old.
So the end of the story is I have acquired the ultimate b-day present for my Mom, and essentially didn't have to pay for it, since I stole it back from the culprit.