Lord of the Carts

Part good samaratin, part obsessive compulsive, there did not seem to be any obvious reason why this street broken, mentally aloof, and universally disconnected human being felt the desire to organize the grocery carts in the metal corral left out in the parking lot which served as holding station for them until some teenage clerk found the time to wander around the area to grab all the baskets. Out of disarray came a blossomed flower of orderliness; the guy wanders around the lot gathering every stray cart as if it was a lost lamb in need of shelter and security. He did not work there, pushing the metal baskets between rows of oncoming vehicles, focused, committed, and unwavering, determination flowed out his pours like sweat from a person on a overly humid afternoon. This was all an attempt at one person seeking to control his environment, dressed in a well soiled, oil stained t-shirt, cut off pants, and a pair of dumpster salvaged dress shoes that looked to be a few sizes too large for the master of the carts.

He did not work there, still his nature to neatness felt a bit misplace especially after giving him the physical once over, personal appearance was nothing, but the calling to act as personal shepard to the grocery carts of Food 4 Less took the upmost precendence. I could not figure out exactly what was motivating this human being to undertake such a ritualistic routine, no one else around bothered to give it any thought, they were too caught in up whether to buy generic or brand name goods, what to cook for dinner, and if they really could afford to eat in the first place anymore. Such heavy weights on the minds of your average grocery shopper could create an unintended short sighting in regards to the personal mission of the Lord of the Carts who at the moment fell back in ranks to the rear of the parking lot, standing between empty parking spaces observing his domain, like a cattle rancher watching the herd as the sun sets in the west, stoic, proud, and overwhelmed with personal hubris, a champion overcoming the impossible, relishing victory in a subconscious moment of reflection. His actions created effiecency, facilated happiness in the eyes of the clerks who merely had to push the carts back in the store now, and finally feed his personal need to generate order in a society so bent on giving up to the everpresent eroding tide of urban decay. The battle would continue on forever, but his own individual front amdist the grocery store parking lot shall serve as a glimmer of hope for those cumplusive types who wallowed in the vices of self control, a psychotic fung shei episode that had no resolution, crumbling blocks stacked over and over again, yet if you forget you ever piled them up in the first place, there would be nothing to get angry about, this guy at that idea mastered, toiling relentlessly once more to reestablish a balance, no amount of lithum, methadone, or antipsychotic could remedy, this fight was his rehabiliation, maybe that is why no one stopped him from continuing the effort, just reaping in the benefit of the constant struggle to the entire house of cards from collapsing, no emotion at all, a robot of specific actions, applause held as the shoppers filled up the carts, then emptied them into their automobiles, unaware to the toil taking place amongst them.