After work I had to go to the supermarket to get some supplies. I got the stuff and walked out, a bag in each hand. Halfway back to my place a woman was coming towards me, as she neared, I looked at her face and I'll be damned if she didn't give me a dirty look. Why did she do that? Did I somehow provoke that dirty look? My t-shirt didn't have any swear words on it. I didn't have a t-shirt like I saw a guy had in the street one time, a black t-shirt with big white letters that read: LET'S GET DRUNK AND KILL GOD. I am sure I didn't smell bad, and anyway, because she was still at some distance when she made that dirty face, there was no way she could smell me. I did not give her a dirty look, I was thinking of other things, not her, so didn't think about her one way or another, so I didn't give her a dirty look, or a lustful look, or a happy look, or an angry look. What else could it be? Was my photograph on the news? Were the police seeking me in conjunction with some abominable crime? Not to my knowledge, they weren't. I have committed no abominable crimes recently.
At last, when she was far behind me, I realised what it was that inspired that dirty look. I was carrying plastic bags from the supermarket. I did not have a GREEN BAG. I did not have my stuff in a GREEN BAG, those *environmentally friendly* bags everybody else seems to use these days. Right then I recalled that a split second before she hit me with that dirty look, her eyes went down to my two plastic bags, then back up to my face. THAT was when her face transformed from a not completely objectionable face, to one sporting a mean and dirty look, aimed square at myself.
Goddam it! I mumbled, and spun my head back to look for her, but she was out of sight, long gone. Goddam it!, mumbled I, once more. Boy, did that dirty look make me mad! What did she think I did with those plastic bags once I had emptied my grocery supplies out of 'em? Head out to the beach to find some dolphins to suffocate? How could she know that they are the perfect size for my plastic bin, so I use the damn things as bin liners? She don't care, don't think, just fire off dirty looks at fine and well-intentioned members of the community who have found the perfect size plastic bag for their plastic kitchen bin.
Goddam it, give ME a dirty look, will ya? I said, no longer mumbling.
HORRORHAG! I boomed, rattling my plastic bags in righteous fury.
I walked the rest of the way home in heroic disgust.