The nature of dark matter, the origins of life, and what will happen when I release my grocery cart—these are just a few questions scientists have yet to answer. Will it glide peacefully across the pavement, liftoff, and sail away to the cart planet from whence it came? Or will it scrape along a Toyota Camry, taking off seven inches of paint and cost the owner hundreds of dollars? Alas, some things we may never know. Nevertheless, we can rest assured that whatever happens, it had absolutely nothing to do with my actions.
Indeed, I wash my hands of this cart. Sure, I was the one who picked out the cart, filled it with crackers, brine, and iodine-free salt. And yes, the cart served me well along my journey, chiming in only to express displeasure with making left turns. But after a short time, I could tell there was something dark brewing beneath that metal frame. While not exactly evil, it certainly wasn’t pure. The cart wasn’t the kind of good Christian cart you’d find in a church on Sunday. Still, I could not imagine what carnage it would wreak upon the world after it left my possession.
After putting away my groceries, I bid the beast adieu and then gave up the reins. Perhaps it will go on a nice autumn stroll, I thought. And at first, that’s what it looked like it would do. Someone nearby addressed me bitterly, “Hey asshole, put your cart back!” I just shook my head in amusement and said, “I don’t work here, pal.”
Immediately upon release, the cart went on a rampage, committing several felonies in quick succession. First, it rear-ended another patron who was loading groceries into their vehicle. The individual then entered the back of their automobile and the hatch closed on them. They were nearly eaten alive by a Subaru Forrester. The cart then fled the scene of the crime, knocking over a flock of small children. Then, with the turn of its wheels, it cut a nice long shiner into a Mercedes Benz C-Class—a shocking display of aluminum-on-aluminum violence.
At this point, many individuals were screaming at me variations of, “WHY DID YOU DO THAT?”
“Do what?” I asked helplessly, trying to diffuse the situation.
“You pushed your cart into those children!” came the unprovable accusations.
I was flummoxed. This crowd was now turning on me, instead of the cart which clearly acted alone.
“Surely you jest!” I replied, getting in my car hastily.
Almost nobody there was jesting, I discovered, and I was quickly run off the property like I was some sort of swamp ogre. Let me tell you, I am not going back to that store. Those were some of the most unfriendly patrons I’ve had the misfortune of encountering.
From then on, I was pretty much inundated with very threatening letters from law firms around the country. I forwarded all of them to the cart manufacturer, like a good citizen.
You’d think that was the end of my story, but the very next week I was shopping at an Aldis and my handbasket flew from my grip and struck a tower of Coke cans in the shape of Santa Klaus. You can imagine the festive, fizzy fallout.
I just don’t know what’s gotten into these container vessels.