The Day I Became a Hoodlum
It never occurred to me that after 32 years without a criminal record, that I could completely blow my good girl streak without a second thought.
I blame monster trucks.
Or should I blame the kid that wants a monster truck birthday party?
Maybe I should blame all the damn stores that don't think monster trucks are a theme worthy of shelf space in their store.
Whichever way you cut it, I was feeling salty. I walked out of Party City and strode to my car muttering a string of words unsuitable for little ears. Out of ideas and more than a little grumpy, I threw my purse in the passenger seat with a little more force than necessary and sagged against the steering wheel. WHAT am I going to do now? He has his heart set on monster trucks...forget that Sissy wants pirates. Pirates aren't cool enough. Even though you get to wear eye patches and have buried treasure and ride in big, huge pirate ships and...OH SHIT. I glanced over to where my purse rested.
Feeling dread creep through me at a quickening pace, I glanced in the back and then quickly away before I could fully take in the image of the floral car seat behind me.
OH MY GOD...I'M IN THE WRONG CAR!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
I think I was out the door and three cars down before the exclamation finished reverberating throughout my body.
I cannot believe it. I just can't believe it. Oh god I hope nobody saw me...I wasn't trying to steal the car Officer, I swear. It looked exactly like mine and my beep beep key worked on it and everything. I'm just here for monster trucks...please don't haul me in!
Fighting down the panic, I bent low and shot off down the aisle until I found my for real car a few spaces down. Not wanting to wait around, I shoved my key in the ignition...slid down low...and hit the gas.
Let the record show my friends...that this is the day I became a hoodlum.