So, this Thanksgiving, I'd decided to be a little untraditional. Instead of a pumpkin pie, I was really just craving a classic confetti (IT'S A PARAAAAADE!) cake with sprinkle vanilla frosting. So, I was gonna make one. I am also a simple creature, so Betty Crocker would be aiding me. I wanted to make the cake tonight so I could focus solely on my Thanksgiving feast tomorrow. I go up tonight to start my cake and pull out the cooking oil. I see it's very low because mom had made a rum cake before me, but it looks like half a cup.
No. Just shy by probably an eighth of a cup.
I'm irritated and cranky now. It's just one of those things that strikes you and irritates you. I lash out at mom and she understandably bitches right back at me, but I go stomping out to my car anyway and head off to Wal-Mart to get myself just a bottle of vegetable cooking oil. That's all I want, that's all I need. We good? We're good.
On the way over, I turn on the radio and absolutely nothing is on. The two stations that aren't cycling ads are playing sucky songs. I turn the radio off, my mental bitching dialing up a few notches again. I get to Wal-Mart, go in my usual entrance, head up my usual aisle, and about that time I discover I've been driving with my brights on by accident the whole time. Sheepishly, I turn them off, now feeling cranky and like a jerk. I make a turn to go down the next row when some JACKASS nearly head-ons me going the wrong fucking way. I'm the one who has to swerve and slam on the brakes while he just merrily keeps going, and now I'm full-on angry as I drive past him. He turns out right behind me and then, right there in the parking lot, starts trying to go around me and nearly runs me into a goddamned pole in his hurry to get up on the sidewalk to park and do whatever it is he needs to do, the asshole. The situation is not helped by pedestrians littering my path to a parking space who appear to be contemplating the beauty of the stars as they amble aimlessly in front of my car.
By the time I find a space, I am fucking pissed. I'm slamming my door, I'm muttering under my breath, because goddamn, all I want is some stupid cooking oil. I stomp inside, barely nodding to the greeter, and of course, the night before Thanksgiving, the place is crowded. I gird my loins and dive in. Well, it's crowded, yes, but it is crowded by rude assholes. I'm doing an elaborate dance all the way to the sweets aisle as I dodge baskets and people who refuse to yield. Yes, every asshole in Oklahoma decided to convene on my Wal-Mart tonight. This is just fucking peachy.
When I finally get to my aisle, it's naturally crowded and for some reason is the only aisle in the whole store with a huge pile of boxes in the middle of it. SPECTACULAR. I make my way to where I need to be and parked right in front of the spot with all of the cooking oils is a woman holding two shopping carts. One is blocking the left side of travel and the other is blocking the right side of travel as she argues with her daughter about whether or not they should all go together to look for whatever shit they need or if they should go separately. They argue about this for thirty seconds, not moving, blocking everything, ignoring the way I am staring rather obviously at the exact spot her ass is in front of. They finally move and I grab the oil.
At this point, "Break Stuff" is playing at top volume in my head and I'm not so much carrying the oil as much as I am holding it like a weapon because I swear to God I am about to kill someone. I JUST WANTED TO GET SOME FUCKING OIL AND MAKE A FUCKING CAKE. IS THIS TOO MUCH TO ASK? GODDAMMIT. Again, I dance through the store because people are assholes, and natch, all of the (few) lanes open are stuffed full. "FUCK IT," I snarl internally and just pick a random lane. It's not even an express, but I couldn't give a rat's ass. I'm sitting there next to the beef jerky, fuming, and there are two people in front of me. One of them is about halfway done scanning her items and the other is getting ready to put all of hers on the counter--she's got a pretty full basket, too, so it's gonna be a wait. I see her glance back at me, and then she goes, "Ma'am?"
I look up, probably looking like I'm about to shank an infant, and she just says, "You go on ahead of me."
I blink. "Really? You're sure?"
"Yeah, you only have the one item."
"Oh, thank you so much!" I zip up and set it down, and the lady in front of me gets her stuff scanned quickly and pays easily. I'm up next, get my one item checked out, pay with a five, and thank the woman behind me once more for her kindness. Then I zip easily out of the store, get to my car, hop in, and turn it on just in time to hear "Come Sail Away" start up and I sing along to it all the way back to the house.
And that is how a random act of kindness prevented me from considering vehicular homicide on my way home from Wal-Mart to get some cooking oil for my Thanksgiving cake.
Happy Thanksgiving indeed.