Load o’ Ballog

You wouldn’t steal a car

April 23, 2010 on 8:22 am | In General | No Comments

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So I’m in the departure area of the airport and I’m browsing around, waiting for the boarding time. I wander in to a digital entertainment store (no, I am not going to give free advertising by saying “HMV”) and I peruse the DVDs.

It takes me half an hour, but I eventually find three to make up my “3 for €20″ selection and I make my way to the cashier and I pay. Before he hands me my purchase (which is now legally mine), holding it teasingly just out of my reach, he says with a smile that makes me want to set fire to his dog:

“You wouldn’t steal a car, would you?”

“What?” I reply.

“You wouldn’t steal a car, would you?”

“I heard you the first time, I just don’t know why the fuck you are asking me.”

He draws his hand back, as if to suggest that he might not deliver my purchase unless I answer the question, which he repeats with a frown. Now I really do want to set fire to his dog.

“You wouldn’t steal a car, would you?”

He emphasises the last two words as if to hint he expects me to say “No”.

“I might. What would the circumstances be?”

“What?”

“Well, I think there might be circumstances under which I just might steal a car.”

He looks disconcerted.

“Just fucking say ´No´”.

“No.”

He smiles with satisfaction and catches his breath as if to ask another question.

“I mean ‘No, I won’t say ‘No’‘.”

He grits his teeth.

“I mean if an apocalyptic disease wiped out most of humanity, leaving only 10 percent alive and 90 percent of the survivors as flesh-eating zombies (the type that can actually run fast) and they are chasing me and my only chance of escape was to steal a car, then I probably would steal a car.”

He wears a black T-shirt and works in a digital entertainment store, so he gets where I am coming from.

“Fair enough, but under normal circumstances, you wouldn’t steal a car, would you?”

“Well, no.”

He smiles with satisfaction and I reach out to take hold of my legally purchased goods.

“You wouldn’t steal a handbag, would you?”

“What?”

“You wouldn’t steal a handbag, would you?” he repeats.

“I fucking heard you the first time! Don’t mistake my bemusement for fucking deafness!”

“Well?” He places the DVDs, which I now own, on a shelf below the counter, as if to suggest that I might not get them if I don’t answer his question.

“I might if I was diabetic and being chased by fast-moving zombies and I had run out of insulin and one of the female zombies used to be my mother and she had my insulin in her handbag. I might steal that particular handbag, yes.”

He nods empathetically, but raises his eyebrows as if to suggest that was not the answer he required.

I sigh.

“No.”

He smiles with satisfaction and I reach out to take hold of my legally purchased goods, fully expecting not to feel their weight in my hand.

“You wouldn’t steal a mobile phone, would you?”

“No,” I declare.

“Unless I am being chased by sprinter zombies and my friend, who has a flamethrower, is two blocks away and needs to know that his flamethrowing capabilities are needed posthaste and the only way I have to communicate my need to him is by mobile phone but I don’t have one,” I mutter.

“What was that last bit?” he asks with the expression of a grumpy school teacher.

“Nothing.”

He smiles with satisfaction but I don’t bother my arse to reach out to take hold of my legally purchased goods.

“You wouldn’t steal a DVD, would you?”

“Apparently fucking not.”

“That’s not the attitude,” he says as he reaches into the cash register to get me a refund.

“No, I would not.”

He finally hands over the DVDs, which I have owned for the past five minutes, but which are only now in my possession. As he does so, his dog wanders in from the back office.

I smile to myself as I fondle the Zippo lighter in my pocket.

“Here, boy!”