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I cruise along Sunset Boulevard just people watching.  Must be a full moon out tonight.  People are acting just a little off tonight.  Must be a result of the recent daylight savings time change:  Its darker than usual. I contemplate going into a tattoo parlor and getting a tattoo of some design for some body part.  That would be pretty cool:  I have always wanted one, but I have a great fear of needles. Probably would not work out too well then.  I come across a Rite Aid and decide to cross two lanes of traffic to make the right into the parking lot.  All to fetch a pack of gum.  Driving in, I notice a fully covered man  sitting in a wheelchair holding a cup and a sign.  I pass a bunch of punked out kids sitting at the entrance.

Within the store, I decide to walk around a little.  It a large store and brightly lit with florescent bulbs lining the ceiling.  I hate florescent lighting.  There’s a special on the sports bars, but they do not seem to carry any good ones.  I arrive in the candy section. A tall man in a dirty green sweatshirt covers the gum rack.  I try and look around him.  He blocks me.  I say excuse me.  He ignores me.  I reach my arm in to fetch the gum.  He suddenly turns and darts away with his shopping cart.  Weird.  Over to the left, a strange short woman stares at me.  Not the type of person who looks away when acknowledged either.  She laughs as she thinks something is funny.

I walk to the check-out area and stand in line.  The man with the dirty green sweatshirt hollers to random employees and swings his cart in front of me in line.  I walk around him and regain my position.  He hits my ankle with his cart.  I turn and look at him semi-annoyed.  He backs off and apologizes.  I am two customers away from the checkout and the cashier frustratingly screams out that she has been there since 1:30 this afternoon, and slams the cash register door shut.  I just want my gum.  That is all.  I just want my gum.  The girl in front of me smiles to me as she notices my nervousness.  She’s cute.  I acknowledge her glance.  She checks out and leaves.  I walk up the register.  The cashier rings me through and forces the four by five sized receipt on me.  I walk out the door.

As I leave, I pass the wheelchair guy, and drop a quarter in his cup making a clinking sound.  He lifts his hooded head slightly and calmly thanks me.

 

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