Is the truth stranger than fiction?

Sometimes. But not in this case. Especially since I’m in the middle of a story about loving a Robot. But I digress.

1st strange occurrence of the week: (which  I am considering writing about for my screenplay for creative writing) I was at the park with Hillary, sitting under the gazaebo type thingamagigy, where strange things have happened before. (cue memory of a former teacher patting me on the head) We were indulging in her snackage, turned away from the table where my half can of chemical god, aka Diet Dr Pepper, happened to be sitting. This rather abrasive looking boy, say between 15-18 years old, starts walking toward the table. I don’t really notice this, but merely assume he’s walking to the other side of the park. I hear him grab (and slightly squish) what sounds like a can of soda. This doesn’t quite register with me for a few seconds. Once it does indeed register, I think, “wait, is that my soda? I don’t remember seeing another soda. Wait, do I know this kid?” I couldn’t turn around, because a) I’m very anti-conflict, and b) I really just did not know how to respond to a stranger drinking my soda. What can you say to that? “Have you been tested for mono?” “Do you backwash?” “Why can’t you just go to the 7-11 and get your own like a normal person?” “I’m going to tell on you?” After not too long, he ran away and I noticed he wasn’t quite hitting on all cylinders, and someone grabbed him and they left the park. Then and only then did I have the semi-courage to turn around to the table and verify that it was my half squished Dr. Pepper on the other side of the table. I guess he was thirstier than I.

2nd strange occurrence of the week: In a fit of Jiggle-club-tasticness, my mom and I decided to go get donuts. As we were getting back into the car, someone parked perpendicular to the spaces in front of us, and two other people parked next to us. Like all normal people, we naturally assumed this was an assassination attempt sparked by our fatness. Hey, that’s a pretty shady parking lot to begin with. I never expected the words “Oh my god! I feel like Matt Damon!” to come out of my mother’s mouth. Apparently we look hella fierce brandishing maple bars, though, since we made it out alive.

Which brings me to my 3rd contention–I mean, the 3rd actually not very strange occurrence: As we were driving out of said parking lot, the Jack in the Box was closing the entrance to its parking lot with all these homemade signs that read “use other entrens.” which gave me a good giggle.