A Dastardly Deed
by Hilda Maston
An old lady (me) shouldn’t get as angry as I was; it made me wish I had learned a few choice cuss words somewhere along the way.
At least that’s how I felt when I discovered that some … miscreant had taken the handicap parking permit from my car.
I left the car for only a few minutes while I went to pick up my monthly supply of drugs from the dealer. (Well, actually, I went into Central Market to pick up my prescriptions, but that sounds kind of boring.)
In that short time some … criminal reached into my car and lifted my handicap parking card, right off the dashboard!
I can just picture some … wretch with two good legs using my card to save themselves a couple of steps in the parking lot of a mall, a restaurant, a dance hall or a bar.
I hope the Golden Rule, or Karma, or Dharma, or one of those you-get-back-what-you-put-out kind of deals is in effect when that … thief gets to be my age. I hope they have to struggle along with just a cane for support for more than a block. I think that would be some small measure of justice.
There was a happy ending. I went to the office where I got my park-ing permit originally, and the nice lady there gave me a new one without any trouble. She told me that handicap placards are stolen quite often.
Moral of the story: Lock your car even if you leave it for only a few minutes.
See you in church!
P.S. I find myself enjoying church more these days. I never know what is going to happen next — and that makes for fun.