I was walking into my local Home Depot (Genesee) with my dog, Django, tonight at the exact moment some sketchy-looking hooded and masked dude was pushing a cart, full to the brim, out the door. For some reason my “spidey senses” were tingling and telling me he didn’t pay. There was a guy in an orange Home Depot apron standing by the door who did nothing. I stopped dead in my tracks, looked at the Home Depot employee, and said “Did that guy pay?” He said… “no”. I said, “What the [bleep], dude, you’re not gonna stop him?” He said his hands were tied — corporate policy.
I’m like, “Hold my dog.” I gave him the leash and booked it out the door toward the thief, who had already made it a good 100 meters away (nearing the other side of the Home Depot parking lot by Marshall’s) and running away with the cart toward Genesee Ave., but had no idea I was hot on his trail. Even though I was in flip-flops, I was full speed, which is fast, even at my age and in my terrible shape. I caught up with him at about the 200 meter mark, right in front of the Vallarta taco shop. (Side note: I got drunk the other night and fell head first into a pair of electric clippers, and am now sporting a mohawk), which means he turned around and saw a biggish guy with a mohawk and a dirty wife-beater tank top stained with roofing tar running at him in flip flops at full speed. At that moment he just left the cart and high tailed it as fast as his little rat feet would carry him. Rather than chase him down (I didn’t have much gas left in the tank anyway), I decided to just stop and grab the cart, and wheeled it all the way back to a crowd of cheering Home Depot employees. Felt good. They thanked me profusely but I didn’t have the heart to tell them I didn’t do it for them. I did it… for Johnny.