Now I’m not one to judge people, or be mean to someone based solely on how they look… alright who am I kidding, I completely do. However, not being friendly to someone because they were born with a set of unfortunate circumstances, is completely different than not being nice to the creep in the corner, who keeps showing you his toothless grin. That being said, there was this horrible midget who worked at the Publix near my home in high school. For those of you who don’t know, Publix is the best grocery store ever. They also contribute to the community by hiring all the freaks, which are otherwise unemployable.
Now back to this midget. He looked like Beetle Juice, a famed member of Howard Stern’s “Wack Pack”, in other words he was utterly hideous. His grotesque outward appearance is not the reason why I have this deep dislike for him, no he seemed to have a personal vendetta against me. This little fucker and I basically had a full out war going on.
It began when my dad sent me to Publix to pick up a couple of things for him. No problem, Publix was literally down the block. I believe I was in the bread isle when I saw this little creature following me just staring. I mean he didn’t even pretend to be adjusting the items on the shelf or anything. He was just at a dead stop in the middle of the isle staring at me. I mean I know I’m good looking but really??
I just ignore him and go about my business. It was in the next isle where he approached me. He came up to me and asked if I needed help finding anything. I politely told him I was all set and headed towards the register. He rushed to bag my items, which consisted of bread, laundry detergent, and fabric softener. I maintained my polite smile and thanked him. Then he asked if I needed help out to my car, again I told him I was okay and reached for my bag. Would you know that the little bastard grabbed my bag out of my hand and said he was going to have to carry it out for me whether I wanted him to or not. I immediately snatched my bag back and told him that really I was fine, and rushed out the door. Of course I saw his creepy little ass staring at my car as I drove away.
I avoided Publix for about a week. I figured by this time it was safe, as he probably had a short memory span and would forget all about the “incident”. I had even begun to convince myself that I had over reacted, and almost felt like apologizing… almost. This time I went with my sister. In the car she was telling me about the creepy midget that works there that followers her through the isles, I couldn’t believe it! I quickly told her about my encounter as we pulled into the parking lot.
We had made it through most of the store before we saw him. We quickly ducked out of the isle he was in and headed towards the register. He saw us and rushed to bag our groceries. The whole time he kept saying “oohh you guys are sisters” over and over again… such a creep. This time we had a lot of stuff so we needed a cart, and he pushed the cart out for us. Look, it’s not like we had a chance in hell of him not pushing it out. He had a tight grip, and wouldn’t let go.
We get to my car and my sister hops in and locks the door. Bitch leaves me out there to fend for myself with the midget. Look if he was full size he would have been a creep. The fact that he was a hideous midget made it creepier. He kept muttering to himself, and to tell you the truth, I couldn’t make out what in the hell he was saying to me. I just wanted him gone. When all the groceries were in the trunk this little bastard stands in front of my car door so I can’t get in. At this point I lose it. I tell him to “move his fucking midget ass away from my door, and get the fuck away from me.” Needless to say I pissed the little bastard off. He moved away from my car and called me a bitch.
I got in and began to drive out of the parking lot when that evil fuck pushes the cart into my car. A brand new Camaro, I probably had it a month. I swear it took everything I had not to turn his ass into a half size speed bump that day. I did however shoot him the bird.
Now here is where things just get ridiculous. I get home and am furious about my car, so furious that I decide I’m calling the store and letting them know what kind of psycho-path they have working for them. I get the manager on the phone, and tell my story. Do you want to know what this fucker told me?? He said “Well honey two wrongs don’t make a right”.
What the fuck just happened here. He said that he was told by the midget that I had used derogatory language towards him, and the cart slipped from his grip. The manager was actually lecturing me about calling him a midget and flipping him the bird. I felt like I was in the Twilight Zone.
The conversation ended when I told the manager to “keep the fucking midget away from me, because next time I would run him over. "
Needless to say I didn’t go to that Publix again, until about a month later. My dad had dropped of a prescription there and needed me to get it. I told him I didn’t want to go because of the midget, and he told me to grow up and just go pick up the prescription.
I made my sister go with me; no way was I facing that bastard alone. I prayed for him to be off the entire ride to the store. We get there rush to the pharmacy, no line, no midget. Things were looking good. Hopefully this would go off without incident…wrong. I pay, head out of the store and back to my car. We get in the car and start laughing, at how nervous we were about this stupid little midget. We must have been so distracted that we didn’t notice him in the parking lot collecting the carts.
I remember starting the car and looking up to see him standing in front of my car making obscene pelvic thrusting gestures at us! We scream, I panic, throw the car into reverse and hit the gas so hard that I nail the pick-up truck parked behind me. Now the midget is walking towards us, so I just throw it into drive and leave.
We get home, I’m hysterical, and not laughing hysterical either. We get in the house and try to collect ourselves. There really wasn’t much damage to my car, just a scratch. I was sure the truck was unharmed. About 10 minutes later there is policeman standing outside my door, asking for me.
I confess, I tell him the midget scared me and I panicked. He didn’t believe me. He said that the bag boy I was referring to took down my tag number and gave it to the owner of the truck when he came out… By the way, the owner of the truck was a police officer! There was no damage, but thought I should be taught a lesson. Really???????
I haven’t been back to that store since that day, and I hope Mr. Midget get attacked by a pack of Pit Bulls or something.
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