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I wrote this for a narration essay assignment.
Note: Kennywood Park is an amusement park in western PA, and route 837 is a highway.

Cleanup on Aisle 837!

Trust is an essential component in any relationship, whether it be between a husband and wife, Roy (of Siegfried and Roy fame) and his tigers, or just two friends. However, certain things go beyond the limits of trust and cross into the realm of pure gullibility. Among these things, as I unhappily discovered, is to trust your life in a shopping cart to someone who is infamous for poor decision making. While this may seem to be a rather arbitrary, if not obvious observation, I feel that it is now my duty to caution the world of the dangers inherent in such escapades.

The fateful event took place after a blistering August day spent at Kennywood Park, enjoying the rides and the company of good friends. After the park closed, we decided to go to Taco Bell across the street and fill our bellies with Grade-D beef, tortillas, and cheese. Unfortunately for us, only the drive-through was open, so we could not eat inside. This was not much of a problem, however, as we were just as content to eat our meals outside in the parking lot, taking advantage of the mild summer night. Unbeknownst to myself, that tranquil evening was about to catapult itself into chaos and near catastrophe.

After finishing his chicken quesadillas, Alex, a boy with the attention span of someone with fewer chromosomes, wandered about the parking lot, searching for anything to occupy himself with, if only for a few moments. Then, as if a gift from the gods, a lone shopping cart, unaccompanied by any hand to push it, slowly wheeled from around the corner of a building, squeaking and rattling as it came. Alex’s eyes snapped toward the cart and locked on to it, all other things fading away into oblivion. And as this single object that had ensnared his attention came further into focus, it seemed that the cart cried out to him, “Here I am for your amusement! Use me as you will!” He announced the cart’s mysterious and sudden appearance, then broke out into a slow and deliberate jog toward the buggy, ever with his gaze fixed upon it. He cast a glance at me from over his shoulder, and I knew his intent. He seized the cart, which shimmered under the glow of the waxing moon, and bent its path toward us. It jittered forward on the cracked, uneven pavement and came to a jarring halt as it crashed into a nearby lamp-post.

We admired his discovery for a while, then began to contemplate a suitable use for it. Alex suggested that I climb into the shopping cart to be borne around the parking lot as if I were some royal monarch of Shop N’ Save. I declined, but he insisted that I would come to no harm. After a few minutes, I relinquished my protests and mounted the great metal steed of grocery store kings. “Onward!” I bid to Alex, only seconds before he let go of the reins. So began my perilous flight toward route 837; my royal carriage had suddenly become an iron cage of death, screaming as the wind swept through its grating. My pulse quickening, I tried to steer the great beast to safety, but my efforts were to no avail. I considered leaping from my pit of despair, but this seemed as though it would only end in excruciating pain; the skin tearing from my bones as I slid and scraped across the gray pavement, staining it with gore. Time did not stop or slow as I considered my options, and I remained barreling toward almost certain doom. I realized that I had but one choice now; let the guard rail uphold its name and deny my entrance to the thoroughfare. I neared the rail, braced myself for the impact, and feared the worst. With a terrible noise, I rocketed into the barrier, metal grinding and screeching on metal. I was nearly vaulted from the cart, headlong into the bustling traffic, but in a stroke of luck, my bent knees caught the front of my former steel chariot. My body folded and I fell out of the cart, collapsing on the hard, unforgiving concrete.

I was slightly bruised and scraped, but had managed to avoid an embarrassing death (who wants to die in a shopping cart?). And although I was bitter, I learned a valuable lesson that day: never trust anyone while inside of a shopping cart. For that matter, don’t get into a shopping cart at all, that is, unless your name is Captain Crunch or Aunt Jemima.

Redjake

that's awesome!

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Off the record, on the q.t., and very hush-hush.

torgone

Very funny!
Great description!

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"Outside of a dog, a book is man's best friend. Inside of a dog it's too dark to read."
Groucho Marx

vonstalhein

Hah, i liked it! I liked the almost-supersilious tone.

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