Hoosier Girl vs. The Man in the Santa Hat

Before I describe today's people-watching, I feel the need to clue-in the non-St. Louisans. "Hoosier" means urban trailer trash; it has nothing to do with the proud residents of Indiana. "Cain't" is a mix of can't and ain't. It means cannot, do not, must not and will not. It's all the negatives rolled into one. "@#(&!%$" means the act of coitus, except with Hoosiers. Then it means, "Pay attention to me, I said a bad word."

Now that people with class can enjoy the story, onward ho!

Today I delivered soda and a secret santa gift to the sponsors of this years family gathering. I also delivered secret santa gifts to the Hubby-Man's selected person. Then I went to the grocery store to buy pudding and lunchables pizza. My keen observational skills noted the lack of available parking. Hmmm, not good. The store was exceptionally crowded. The little Scotty in my head said, "The shields won't hold, capt'n." So I staggered around the store with an awful headache. Too many people, too many thoughts, way too chaotic for my tender senses.
I snagged the goodies I'd come for and headed for the checkout.
And what to my wondering eyes should appear, but 18 lanes open, no waiting. What a beautiful sight. I made it through the checkout in about 30 seconds. It made my day.
I in my scarf, but not wearing a hat, had just dropped some change in the bell ringer's vat. When out in the lot there arose such a clatter, I looked toward my truck -in case it would matter.
I couldn't not notice Hoosier Girl. From her faded jeans to her red dyed hair, her whole being screamed "Hoosier". If that wasn't enough to clue you in, 2 seconds of listening to her verbal diarrhea would do the trick.
Yes, the whole time it took me to walk the Wal-Mart sized parking lot and load the goodies in my truck, I got to listen to:

You cain't hit my @#(&!%$ car! You don't hit my @#(&!%$ car. Nuh uh! You cain't hit my @#(&!%$ car!

And who was she assaulting with her poor grasp of grammar? (besides all of us normal people) A man in a Santa hat. I believe the man would have explained about the store having a telephone and calling to report the accident, if Hoosier Girl had taken a moment to breathe. I saw the man turn and walk toward her, palms up in a universal gesture of "Let's discuss this reasonably" and I noted how Hoosier Girl started walking backward, still spewing venom. She had to keep at least 20 feet between her and the man in the Santa hat, because he was black. Isn't that pathetic?

I really felt sorry for the poor guy.