For those of you unfamiliar with Marty, it is a large, tube-like robot that roams around the store. No one is quite sure what it does, but whenever I am in the store, Marty follows me around like it is obsessed with my rear-end. And no, for the love of all things sane, I am well-past the age of having what one might consider a "nice ass."
I am a Marty Magnet.
I am basically trapped by Marty in the bakery. No one else is around because it's a quiet store anyway, and the bakery staff has gone home. I wait patiently for Marty to pass, then I wrongly assume Marty will continue on its route around the store. I let my guard down and move past the cookies to the cupcake display, completely oblivious to everything except buying dessert for a meeting, and making a quick stop at the wine tasting.
My hands leave the grocery cart, and I balance a package of frosted brownies in one hand, and a box of Hershey chocolate chip cookies in the other while bending over to check out the prices and selection of cupcake treats when suddenly I sense a presence quite literally at my left butt cheek.
Damnation and crap on a cracker! It's Marty!
I shoo Marty away, as if it will listen to me, throw items into my cart, and attempt to move past the robot. I finally make a get-away but have to escape in the wrong direction. Instead of approaching the check-out area and the wine tasting, I am now somewhere in frozen food and heading toward eggs and cheese.
Peering around every corner, I finally get my items into a bag and proceed to the alcohol and beverage section of the store. I love wine tastings because it gives me a chance to be social with other people, some of whom know much more about wine than I ever could, and it's fun to be educated while sipping tasty samples.
Many of us at the table know each other by sight as we run in the same wine tasting circuit, so we are laughing and sampling and telling stories. I decide to tell them about my bakery encounter with Marty. Everyone chuckles as I say, "I swear someone is in the upstairs office with a joystick, controlling that robot so it follows me everywhere."
Suddenly, my friend nudges her husband as her eyes widen. No sooner have the words left my mouth when sneaking right up behind me, close enough to pinch my fat tush, rolls Marty. I practically spill the wine, which would be a bloody shame because it's a Chianti Classico and mighty tasty. Instead, I turn, look Marty in its make-believe eyes, and sigh.
Really, dude? Seriously? But, that's not the strangest part.
As soon as Marty passes, it heads to its docking station, between the wine tasting and the exit. Marty just stops there, facing me at a distance of about five yards. The people at the wine tasting turn to me and voice exactly what I am thinking: Marty is waiting for me and will attack me on my way out of the store.
I won't lie. As soon as I am done shopping, I look right at Marty, make sure the coast is clear of humans, and run the carriage toward the automatic doors. No, I do not return my carriage to the inside of the store. I leave it outside on the sidewalk near the store entrance. And no, I do not look up at the door when I roll the carriage over there. I am truly afraid I will see Marty staring out at me, plotting for the next time it sees me, and waiting for me with true Hitchcock-ian evil in its robot heart.
