Gordy

Gordy owned a shop in my hometown, and while I was waiting for my mother one day I was perusing the toy aisle to pass the time. I must have been eight or nine years old, and it was winter, so I was wearing a huge down coat with big pockets.

I had my hands in my pockets, because it was cold as a witch’s teat in there. Gordy came barreling down the aisle and demanded that I show him what was in my pockets, accusing me of shoplifting.

I took off to find my mother, Gordy following me the whole way.

I can’t remember if I eventually turned out my pockets or not, but I was pissed that an adult would falsely accuse a child of stealing.

Comments

[ec]

Ah...paranoid underbelly of the small town shopkeeper.