Another Parking Lot, Another Guy Who Deserves a Whuppin'

I'm in the Wal Mart parking lot.

Wolfboy and I are zipping out to the van in the blustery cold. We've got a lot of groceries to unload.

A white car is waiting behind the van as if he knows that's the spot these two random shoppers will soon be vacating. Eh, he can wait.

Wolfboy's helping, loading bags into the side door while I hurriedly put them in the back. I'm in a good rhythm when WHAM, I smack my head on the rear door of the van.

The pain doubles me over, and I stumble around for a moment, shaking my head and cursing. It hurts a lot, and it feels wet.

Damn, I think I'm cut, I think to myself.

I take a deep breath, straighten up, and finish loading the bags.

At this point someone's going around the guy in the white car, and he pulls closer, mere inches from my son and me. Birds and stars are still circling my head, and I only want to get in the van and get out of there.

I put up the basket, hop in the van, and pull down the visor mirror to check my hair for blood. I'm looking, looking... and then I hear it:

HONK!

***

Holy Curt Schilling, the schmuck in the white car has just honked at me to vacate the space he so badly wants, even as I'm checking my skull for a gash.

By the way, the space next to mine was empty. Yes, he was honking at a man with a head wound to hurry his ass up so he could get one whole space closer to the Wally World entrance.

***

The funny thing about having one or both of my kids around is that I'm less inclined to make a scene than when I'm alone.

I put the van in reverse, and stopped for a moment so the waiting car's headlights would illuminate me. I told Wolfboy, "You will meet two kinds of people in the world, my son: Nice people and jerks. And THAT--" I said as I pointed at him "--is a JERK."

***

I must say that there was a time when I might have gone out of my mind over that, really made a scene. I didn't really even consider it last night. No, I didn't hit my head THAT hard. I think it's just the sort of patience that comes in a scrape these days. Funny thing about spending lots of time training to fight is that you're actually less inclined to really fight.

Just send the invoice to my office, Whit.