Left For Dead

The grocery shopping HAD to be done. Outside of the delish rainbow cookies I'd just made

there wasn't much more than an echo in our fridge. We tucked the kiddos in bed and I headed out. Dropped off the movies, picked up two more - everything is fine and dandy. I hit the supermarket, easy peasy. The place is practically empty and I was able to shop unfettered by others. No wait at the deli, alie oop the bananas in the cart. Gosh, so smoothly I wanted to click my heels. The only clicking was my ignition. 9:34 at night and my car won't turn over, hell it won't even pretend to try. I call my husband's cell... No answer. I call the house... Ring... Ring... Ring... Like 9 freakin' times.. Where the hell is my answering machine? Never mind he FINALLY picks up. I give him a quick run down and he says "I'll call you back" Ok not a problem, he's probably calling his Dad who's a part time tow truck driver. The Final jeopardy music starts playing in my head - I am not amused. The seconds tick by and I stare at my phone... Nothing.... Nothing... And still nothing. I can hear my heartbeat in my ears... This is just what some sicko is waiting for. Some poor stranded 20 something with Tofutti Cuties melting in her car, desperate to get home and hide in her red flannel sheets. The parking lot is emptying quick, the store closes in 15 minutes... A white work truck starts circling the lot like a vulture, waiting for it's prey to take it's last gasping breath. As its creeps by me, the driver turns to stare. I avert my gaze, choosing to read the spray painted sign tied to his ladder carrier "Home Broke? We gots parts" We gots? My life might be ended tonight by some back woods, toothless, shyster who doesn't even have a basic grasp of the English language? I could beg for my life and unless I throw in a few ain't, gots, and something about beer, it would all be Greek to him. By this point I'm wishing I had purchased some Xanax laced cupcakes or a tazer gun. Tick... Tick... Tick. FINALLY, my cell phone rings. "Get out of the car and prop your hood up babe, one of my dad's friends is swinging by with his tow truck to give you a jump"... "That's great, but there is no way I'm getting out of this car to be murdered minutes before my rescue" I make him stay on the phone, somehow he's not grasping the pressing fear I feel. That white truck still circling, slowly, is making my voice tremble. Salvation arrives, I hang up and hop out to raise my hood.