Land Of The Lost

It happened again yesterday. I happily swooped into the Wal-mart parking lot, and while performing some agile find-the-best-spot maneuvers, I cut ahead of a white SUV. It must have irritated them because they followed me, throwing old diapers and drink cups at me, and yelling things no senior citizen deserves to hear. I made a few zig-zags and ditched them,  parking my truck where it blended in with  other attractive vehicles. In the store, I purchased some groceries and a wiggling hula dancer air freshener for my dashboard. I left, pushing a creaky cart with one paralyzed wheel.
I went to the place I thought I had parked my truck, and it wasn't there.  I remembered the  white SUV, and everything came back to me, except the location of the truck. I would not stand there at my age looking bewildered. That's a sure ticket to the rest home, so I pulled out my cell phone and held it to my ear while I wandered around pushing that crippled cart with one hand, looking for my truck. Surely the fake phone conversation would make me look busy and distracted, not old and stupid.
I pictured the Walmart security guys having a good laugh when they review the day's surveillance video. "Hey, Chuck, check this out! Another old lady lost her car! Bwa-ha-ha! Look, she's doing the cell phone thing! Hardy-har har!"
After walking every lane of the parking lot, I found my truck. I knew the minute I saw it in that ridiculous location that someone had found my keys and moved it. I wish these pranksters would leave us old people alone.