A few nights ago I headed to the grocery store to purchase an obscene amount of blackberries. They were only a dollar a carton. For those of you unfamiliar with produce, it is nearly impossible to find them for such a minuscule amount.
I saw a car parked in the spot reserved for expecting mothers. I then realized the spot immediately next to it was opened.
I knew it was a spot reserved specifically for one demographic because of its strategically placed sign. Printed clearly upon the sign was a picture of a stork in mid-flight carrying an androgynous infant balanced within a bundle of swaddling that hung precariously from the bird's beak. Apart from the fabled image of baby delivery, were a series of letters that formed a sentence any person with the ability to read the English language would have been able to decipher. "This Spot Reserved For Expecting Mothers."
That's pretty easy to understand. I mean, it wasn't a spot for someone with a handy cap. I don't believe there would be any kind of fines involved if the police were to discover someone less than pregnant had been occupying the parking spot.
"What luck!" I thought, as I realized the spot directly next to the vehicle of the supposed pregnant person was available. To my dismay I quickly became aware this person was not only careless with their birth control, but also careless with the resting position of their automobile. The car had been strategically placed in two parking spots with complete disregard for the guidelines so thoughtfully painted about the blacktop.
I wasn't entirely upset about the fact I had to walk a little bit further, more so that the person carrying another living being inside of them was being so careless.
I turned my keys and pulled them out of my ignition. The expecting mother's car was half a parking spot to my left. Exiting my vehicle I thought about how much I wanted to taste the literal succulent fruit of my labor.
My joyous thoughts were interrupted as I noticed the owner of the vehicle parked in a spot promised to some presently pregnant person.
A young man, no more than eighteen, approached the vehicle, triumphantly holding a twelve pack of Pepsi Throw Back. My mind immediately moved in two separate directions. In one direction my mind thought, "What? Pepsi Throw Back? No way!" In the other direction my mind thought, "Why, he's not a woman at all. He's just some punk trying to bend the rules." There were no women around him, in his car or following close behind him.
I stopped and watched as he walked to his car and I couldn't help myself. I shouted at the youth, "Oh my god, you're pregnant? Is it going to be a boy or girl?"
I half expected him to shamefully slink into the driver seat of his poorly placed vehicle and think about his actions as he drove home with this weighing heavily upon his conscious. Instead I was met with, what I could only assume, was this young man's attempt at a witty remark.
He looked at me for a second after opening his car door, then he yelled back, "You're fucking pregnant, douche!"
A truly impressive display of wit. His zygote must be very proud.
Needless to say, my blackberries were delicious.