Why?

Strange people seem to always be drawn to me. I don't know why this happens. My mom always said that I have inviting eyes. She said that I don't look away when a strange or troubled person approaches. My sister said that I have a Familiar Spirit. She explained that people who have demonic spirits are attracted to others that have the same problem. I prefer to agree with my mom. I don't particularly like the idea of being possessed by the devil.
Yesterday I was at Walmart. I hate that place because of all the screaming kids. I must admit though, it is fun to people watch there. The outfits shoppers wear are amazing. I don't understand why any woman would think that showing her fat belly would make her look more attractive. Mexican women wear halter tops that leave their huge stomachs out there exposed for all the world to see. It is disgusting. They really think that they look good prancing around Walmart while their six kids aimlessly run around through the racks of cheap clothes. Sorry. That is a whole other story. And I digress. I was at Walmart looking for some towels to buy for my nieces birthday.
I found some thick white towels in the huge, long rack that lined the isle. I had gone through different sizes and thicknesses in search of the perfect towels. It was a major ordeal. I thought that it would be an easy task, but I kept second guessing myself. Was this towel thicker than the last two? Would they fall apart in the washer? Was white the right color? It is hard to pick out a gift for a girl that has excellent taste. My niece is an interior designer. Finally, after forcing myself to make a decision, I loaded the towels, washrags and hand towels in my shopping cart and headed for the extensive row of cash registers.
I needed to go to the restroom, and I couldn't wait through the long line at the only two, of twenty, registers that were open. I parked my cart at the end of one of the closed registers. I headed, as quickly as my feet would move, to the Mens Restroom. While sitting on the tissue covered seat I thought about my gift selection. Towels are not very personable. Do they express my love for my niece? Would she think that I was dumb for not buying her clothes instead? I couldn't even consider that thought. I am a gay man. I cannot buy a beautiful girl clothes at Walmart. I know that I should know a lot about girls clothes, but I don't. I guess that I did not get that part of the gay gene. My mind was racing from one thought to another. I needed to focus on my purpose for going to the restroom. I will not go into the details. After washing my hands, (Yes I always wash my hands with plenty of soap) I rushed out the door and passed the crowd of customers swinging their buggies my way.
Where is my shopping cart? I looked all up and down the wide isle to see if someone had pushed it somewhere. Maybe someone had mistakenly pushed it to one of the cashiers. They probably were reaching for a bunch of bags of Doritos while their kids were knocking candy bars off the rack and down to the floor. They were distracted after stepping on the candy bars and grabbed the wrong cart. After a quick search of all the buggies in the two open lines, I came to the conclusion that an employee must have taken my abandoned cart back to the huge rack of towels. I was frantic. I had to get back to the isle as quickly as I could. If the employee had already loaded the towels up on the shelves and walked away, I would have to start my search all over again. I couldn't remember which white towels were the ones that I had so painstakenly selected.
As I entered the isle, I was extremely relieved to see a rather large bellied man talking on his cell phone while fondling my pure white towels.
"Excuse me sir," I said ,"but you seem to have my buggy."
He turned to me, and in a loud tone of voice said, "I am talking on my phone."
"Yes. I can see that, but you have my towels. That cart is mine."
"Oh really," he shouted. "I didn't see your name on it."
"Do you work here or something? If not, this is really weird that you would take my cart."
"I am on the phone talking to my friend about these towels, and you will have to wait. I am doing a price check to see if I want to buy these."
"Look. Those are my towels. I need my cart back. Do you have some kind of problem or something?"
"You are extremely rude. You can have them back if you say please."
I looked at him in the eyes and could see that they were twinkling at me. Oh god! This fat nut is trying to flirt with me. Should I be nice and say "please?" Or should I just grab the cart and rush away with it? I was ready to punch him in the stomach. He was a fat slob of a gay man. His sweat covered,flabby, fat, hairy arms rested across my towels as he waited for my response. The anger, held deep in my body, was about to explode. I was ready to let this asshole have it. Quick thoughts of what I would call him as I punched him rushed like a furious locomotive through my angry brain. I could feel my shoulders drawing up into hard knots. I was completely aware of the tension,held tightly, in my body. I questioned myself: "Is this worth it? Why should I let this jerk do me this way? He is causing my blood pressure to rise so high that I can feel a burning sensation in my face.
My sight traced down at the towels with his laptop purse on top. They fallowed up his gross arms and into his face, that was covered with a giant grin. Suddenly my heart pained for the poor attention wanting man. His eyes spoke to me. They were saying, "I have you over a barrel. You have to talk nicely to me if you want what I've got. In that brief moment of recognition of another persons need for attention, I truly felt sorry for the poor guy. Immediately the word "Please" jumped out of my mouth.
I looked for his reaction. I expected him to take the lap top purse out of the buggy and walk away. He would feel elated because he had gotten a stranger to be nice to him. That would be OK with me. It wouldn't hurt me to let this poor soul feel good for a brief moment in a long day. I might even say "Thank you", as he walks away.
He didn't though. Instead he said, "Say pretty please." At that point,I grabbed his purse and shoved it up over his arm. I grabbed the buggy and headed for the registers. "What a freak," I said under my breath. "Why are they always so attracted to me?"