Ventured over to Wal~Mart yesterday and ran into an ex-girlfriend.  She was with her new man, though I should be quick to point out he was not the guy who stole her from me.  Had it been the "other man," well, that young buck and I mighta had to have words.  Some harsh words.  He slapped her around on his way outta town and now he's three states over; he doesn't know just how fortunate he is to be so... distant.

Be that as it may, she and I "moved on," though in a truly awesome twist, we're still friends.  She's quite the sweetie and in a way I can't blame her for falling for that Slurpee-sucking snake-oil salesman. 

But that's all beside the point.  Her latest beau seems to be a straight shooter.  Yep, I think she's doing pretty well for herself.  The three of us chatted amicably about our jobs and her kids and my girlfriend while idling our carts in the aisle between the shoes and the bras.

And then we parted ways.

I picked out a few more items--Sudafed, a spool of thread and some baking soda--and rambled toward the cash registers.  Finding myself third in line I scanned the impulse items with due diligence and reflected on what Shelly and Nick talked about.  Already making plans to get married.  After only six months.  I guess that's the speed of things these days.  I think... well, right after she dumped me I rolled the dice and got really lucky and found somebody I'm a bit more compatible with, and--if first impressions have any merit at all--she's found somebody she's pretty darn compatible with, too.  So it's all turned out for the best.

I edged my cart forward and was about to place my items on the conveyor belt when this guy behind me knocks into my cart, which sends my bananas tumbling to the floor.

"What?" I say.  "Hello?"

I guess this rube read my mind because the next thing out of his mouth is:  "Ah, it's good for 'em."  Then he reaches down and picks up my bunch and half-tosses half-places them on the belt.  For me.

"Sure," I continue.  "Bruising my bananas would be ok if I were making, for instance, banana bread or a health shake.  But I'm not.  Hadn't planned on it anyway.  Maybe I should change my menu, eh?"

"Just don't worry about it," he grunts.  "Your nanners will be fine."  He says this while maintaining some serious eye-contact.  It hits me that perhaps someone had recently stolen his cowboy boots and he hadn't even started getting over it.  Such was the expression on his face. 

The roller moves forward and it draws my attention away from this boorish fellow.  But I don't look away.  Well, not right away.  Seconds pass.  I clear my throat and begin to inspect the damage.  Seeing that they don't look too bad, I go about ignoring him, giving him my back with a haughty turn of my shoulders.  I pile my stuff together and say "Hey" to the cashier.

A few seconds later I look--peripherally--and see he's got a jar of salsa.  Probably needs it for his Quiche Lorraine.  I attempt one more blast of eye contact, but he's scanning the latest concerns regarding Brad Pitt and Angelina Jolie.  I shake my head and make another inconsequential comment to the checker.  She bags me up, and I'm out the door.

So I'm in the parking lot, all loaded up and on the verge of boarding my cruiser, when I look two rows over and there's the same guy and he's got this other guy by the neck!  I freeze.  I know it's him 'cause there's a jar of salsa on top of his car--or maybe it's the other guy's car--and I can't look away 'cause they're obviously not doing the Texas Two-step.  It looked like the one guy tried to roll away from salsa guy, but then salsa guy pushed him against the open car door.  Then, struggling, they fell out of my line of sight.  I started hurrying toward them. 

And right then it happened.  A loud CRACK.  My first instinct:  gunshot.  Right back to my car, ignition, go.  While circling out of the parking lot I looked back and saw his car moving, and the salsa was still on the roof.  Usually I take the exit with the traffic light as it's quicker.  But this time I went the long way around, opting for the exit without the light.  It just has a stop sign, and, if need be, I could run it.  Turned out I didn't have to because salsa guy went the other way.

FORWARD to what happened next   

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