The Derelict Cart

There was once a run-away, hanging around Papa John’s.

Being the concerned citizen I am, I immediately to locate the parent or guardian– not much of a challenge, even from thirty meters, with respect to the cart’s bright red plastic and plainly visible “Target” emblem.

As any concerned citizen would do, I immediately called the run-away’s guardian:

“Ring … ring.”

“Thank you for calling Target on Dell Range. Our store hours are … blah blah blah. Press 1 for an operator.”

“*beep*”

“Ring … ring. Click!”

“Thank you for calling Target. This is Stacy. May I help you locate something this evening?”

“Hey Stacy. It’s Mark. I’m calling from Papa John’s, down the street. Actually, I might help you locate something: a run-away cart.”

“Oh?”

“Yes, well you see, we’ve had this cart hanging around Papa John’s all evening. It seemed lost, so I tried talking to it. My Cartese is a little rough; all I could make out was something about ‘trouble at home … bastards … they don’t understand … joining the circus.’ Quickly surmising the situation, I realized it was a run-away!”

“Uh huh.”

“It’s not a big deal– I mean, it seems like a nice cart and all, but Papa John’s has a policy against loitering. It says it right on the door: ‘No Loitering.’ So, what I’m saying is that it doesn’t have to go home, but it can’t stay here.”

“I see. Well, I’ll tell them.”

“Good deal. Thanks, Stacy.”

“Bye-bye.”

Whoever “them” is, anyway. Huh.

—

Five hours later, as Cory and I walked out the front door, I noticed that, what-d’ya-know, the cart was still hanging around in our parking lot!

The concerned citizen in me said “gee, maybe I should push this down the street to Target.” But then the sarcastic asshole in me thought “gee, wouldn’t it be funny if…”

So. Target being West, we set out East– the cart and I. We crossed the Sam’s Club parking lot, and the cart gave me a free ride down the incline to the parking-lot next door. At long last, arrived under the bright blue neon: “Wal-Mart. Lower Prices, Always!”

The first obstacle was the greeter (a.k.a. the person who watches to make sure you don’t bring in stuff you’re not supposed to). Assuming the air of a “serious shopper,” I brazenly pushed my cart through the sliding door and towards the designated greeter.

The greeter glanced up, but I paid him no mind. Satisfied that I was just another “serious” late-night shopper, her returned to sorting a pile of clothes (by size, I hope, not color!). Thinking a sigh of relief, we walked and rolled into the Food Center.

Once inside, I didn’t really know what to do. So we wandered around, just me and my bright-red Target cart. Two drunks noticed me. “Hey kid,” they slurred, “don’t ya know that’s a Target cart?” I winked back, and continued on my way.

We strolled through the Food Center and veered left towards Electronics. Meandering through Electronics we stopping to marvel at the worthless e-Machines computers being sold and continued on our way. Meeting no resistance, we trekked on, through sporting goods and auto-repair. But our good fortune could only last so long…

Approaching the pharmacy, we nearly collided with a floor cleaning machine + operator, coming around the blind corner of the isle. The operator gave me a dirty look and I meekly apologized, continuing on my way thinking “whew! That was a close one!”

Nearly out of cosmetics, a red-headed girl stocking the shelves finally noticed. “Hey,” she said, “you have a Target cart!”

“What? Me? Where?!” I responded, caught a little off guard. While she laughed, I resumed “serious shopper” and we made our get-away!

We paced pace past the checkout-stands, having nearly come full-circle. Sensing the time was right, I ditched my beloved (if somewhat confused) cart between two racks of clothes, feigned complete innocence, and walked alone toward the door.

On my way out, the greeter was still sorting clothes. He glanced up, and then I was gone, laughing as I went.