Stupid Slow Bastards Part 1

I was with my father pushing our way out of Home Depot. Our cart was filled with 90 pound cement bags and eight foot two by fours were jutting out either end. This awkward 600 pound beast was hard enough to push in a straight line without having to guide it around these stupid slow bastards who were blocking our path.

We were in our work clothes and looked as the day laborers who wait for work in the Home Depot parking lots. My pants were baggy and faded, my shirt was thin and white and powdered grey with cement. My father attempted to maneuver the beast around these two guys in their mid twenties who were decked out in the latest clothing trends.

Under his breath one of the stupid slow bastards muttered condescendingly: “you could have said excuse me instead of just standing there.”

“Or you could not be in our way,” I said. He was taken aback, surprised that I spoke English.

“Oh, sorry,” he said quickly, unable to maintain eye contact. They moved out of the way and let us pass.