The story that follows is a poetic, almost mythological, series of events that highlights the importance of not being impulsive and controlling one’s temper—and of the folly to which pursuing a path of vengeance can lead…
We’ve all probably been here at some point, wearily wandering out of the supermarket towards our vehicle, groceries in hand, laboriously making our way toward our vehicle, keys ready in our one free hand. Approaching the car, you press the button on the doohickey to unlock the vehicle, only to find that it doesn’t respond, the lights don’t flash, and the familiar sound of the locks clicking to unlocked positions in unison is strangely absent. I must remember to change the battery in my doohickey. You think to yourself as you mash the button repeatedly, trying to get the car to respond.
You reach for the handle, with foolish optimism, expecting the door to hold fast… and find it—opens in your grasp. Strange. You think to yourself. Scolding yourself for again forgetting to lock the car.
You place the groceries you’re carrying in the backseat, noticing a strange, unfamiliar, musky smell emanating from the car as you do so. You go to the driver’s door and pull it open, sliding into the seat to find that nothing is as you left it. The steering wheel is tilted at a lower angle down into your knees, the seat is much too close to the dashboard, and the mirrors are all sorts of wrong—you couldn’t possibly see anything useful out of them.
Then, as you notice the unfamiliar ornament on the dash (a cactus wearing a ridiculous mustache and sombrero with “Let’s Fiesta” scrawled at its base), it begins to dawn on you in a slow trickle like the sweat now freshly running down your back… This is not your car.
. . .
Of course, your experience likely didn’t end with you accidentally destroying your own vehicle—as it did for this unrestrained individual…
This guy found himself in the middle of what should have been an amusing mix-up when he parked next to a Subaru that was identical to his own in a Walmart parking lot, with both sporting an earthy shade of muddy green. The only difference was that the guy’s car was comparatively worse for wear, namely sporting a sizeable and apparent door-ding from a previous parking lot encounter.
Walmart shoppers are, of course, known for their sound reasoning, impulse control, and strong decision-making skills. So, when the guy emerged with his shopping next to an individual whom he dubbed “The Idiot,” certainly nothing untoward was about to happen.
When The Idiot spotted the dent on “his” vehicle, the guy began to witness a change come over him, like Bruce Banner turning into the Hulk—only with less green and more impotent suppressed rage.
The Idiot began tearing apart the “offending” person’s vehicle (actually his own) in a fit of raging fury. As the guy quietly slipped back towards the store and security, leaving The Idiot perplexed and still raging—and eventually the dawning realization of what had just transpired.
