Hello, Again

One

He was an older fellow, the kind you kind of worry about turning your back on because they might kick the bucket at any moment. He came cruizing down my aisle in the store provided electric wheel chair looking glassy eyed and ready to tediously count out his total in dimes and nickles. I guess in his ancient age his reaction time was a bit off because I nearly was splattered across the front of his basket as he screeched to a halt a mere few inches from my foot.

"Woah there, hoss," I joked, "Coulda killed me!"

He chucked good naturedly as he stood and shakily wrapped his pale, papery hands around the handle of his cane. As he began to stand he looked dreamily off into the abyss of memory lane and said distantly, "I ran over a black baby once."

Unable to speak I merely stared, probably looking like I had just swallowed one of those pre-shucked clams we were selling at ninety-nine cent a pound at the time. An awesome deal if you ask me -- see Walmart come up with something that ace? Didn't think so.

The ancient man took my silence as a reverent push to continue. "Ran right over his head."

"You fucking sick bastard! Get out of my store," in Dumbstrucknese can also mean, "Sir, do you have your savings card today?"

Ignoring my question he hobbled to the other side of the cash register, licking the white stuff that forms on your lips when they're dry away. I stood like a frozen statue, a strained wide smile plastered to my shocked face.

"They kept him in the hospital for two days and never found his [you know...THAT word] parents."

By this time he was holding the savings card as far out as he could towards me. Taking it, I quickly began scanning his items without a word, wanting nothing more than to get on with my life as far from this guy as possible. When I had finnished and he had counted out his thousands of pennies and dimes and Susan B. Anthonies, the ancient man looked at me with the same far away look back in his eyes. "It might have belonged to our cleaning lady, I guess."