She Looked A Little “Lieutenant Dan,” If You Know What I Mean

One day long ago, far, far away I was standing in line at CVS. (This is like a Walgreen’s or Eckerd’s drugstore, for anyone who doesn’t know what CVS is. And incidentally I really miss Eckerd’s and I LOVED the smell of that place. It was almost masturbatory for me. Mmm just like hospitals.) Anyway, to set the scene it was a Saturday mid morning and I lived in a very outdoorsy city where when the weather is nice, which it pretty much is all the time, people flock to stores in the morning to buy beer and various supplies for the lake/river/water park (yes it’s that awesome of a city), so that they can go party all weekend/day.

While standing in line I thought it odd that there was only one cashier to service the at least 20 people standing along with me. Not only that, my subconscious started picking up on tension in the air. Almost everyone in line was preoccupied with their, at the time, new iphones/smart phones except for the others who were just pissed and annoyed at the wait or ME who didn’t own one at the time, because yeah, I’m consistently behind on owning the newest, latest and greatest gadget. 

So here’s a drawing of the front of the store from the perspective of a patron who’s standing in line:

The cashier’s eyes started to suddenly dart to her right where I noticed a very big flannel wearing lesbian type chick standing (hereafter referred to as Nancy because every time I see a very large or butch-y lesbian chick I’d like to think that she has a really feminine name, like Nancy. Plus there’s a running joke with some of my long time friends about how I misnamed a butch-y lesbian Fed Ex lady Nancy back in the day, and it just sort of stuck so I’m going to go with that,) near the exit. She was trying to look casual while halfway leaning up against a display of bottled water but I could tell her focus was on someone. 

And from the make-up aisle out rolled a one legged, gang banging Chola in a wheelchair. Are you a northerner and reading this and asking yourself, what’s a gang banging Chola? Well my friend(s), THIS:

Is a gang banging chola.

 

I googled something different on my search for the perfect Chola picture because I knew this particular picture existed and wanted to use it but if you Google Chola yourself, you’ll get the idea.  So before I give you the script of the conversation that went on between Nancy and the Chola, check this out to get a good understanding of what a Chola’s voice and mannerisms are like:

And check this out to get a full understanding of what a Nancy’s voice and mannerisms are like:

No really, go ahead – take a look, it’s pertinent that you get their voices and mannerisms down so that I don’t really have to work so hard at making this story funny.   

Well here goes, as I remember it, this is how the scene played out (in movie script form cause it’s easier), oh and the dialog is spelled phonetically for full effect: Nancy moves to block the door as Chola wheels up.  Nancy takes a ‘gladiator’ type stance to block the exit and Chola who is looking down while wheeling herself towards the exit slightly bumps into Nancy’s legs and looks up at her. 

Nancy: Loudly says “Get up!”

Chola:  smacks lips together before speaking (like all good Cholas do) “Whaaaat?”

Nancy: Yells “You heard me, I said get up out of that chair right now, stand up, I want to see what you’re sitting on!”

Chola: smacks lips “Mmmnnnaaahhh (sound Cholas make before speaking) exyoose me beetch, uh, I can’t stand up, DUHHHH!” rolls eyes

Nancy: “Whatever.  Quit faking it and STAND up!”

Chola: Stares indignantly at Nancy and continues to sit in her wheelchair.

Nancy: “Then empty your purse out, go on, dump it out, RIGHT NOW!”

At this point all goings on have stopped and everyone in the store is focused on the scene at hand, including the cashier.  It is obvious that the Chola cannot get up out of her wheelchair as she only has ONE LEG.  I’m craning my neck to see if maybe she’s sitting on one of her legs and trying to fool everyone or if she is legitimately handicapped.  As I scan the room, looking for possible places to run and hide or shield myself from potential gun play I see everyone’s mouths gaping open with shock.  I’m sure the thoughts that were running through their minds were the same as the ones running through mine.  “Is this some kind of gang war thing happening on this side of town?  Could this be a crazy lesbian love affair gone wrong?!  Oh Lawd (southern for Lord), I don’t know WHAT is about to happen but I’m pretty sure an ass beating of some kind is about to commence.” 

Chola: “Mmmnnnaaahhh, look I don have anything, I don know whatch yer talkin' about.”

Nancy: “Fine, empty out your bra then, right now!!”

Chola: Huffs in exasperation and starts reaching under her shirt and into her bra and pulling out various make-up items, handing them to Nancy and then starts taking things out of her purse and handing them to her. 

Nancy: “Yeah, I thought so now lets’ see what you’re sitting on, stand up!” Turns to the cashier, “Call the police!”

Chola: Shoots up out of chair and starts hopping around on her one leg looking furious

Nancy: “Ma’am calm down, you need to sit back down and wait for the police to get here!”

Chola:  yells “WhatEVER beetch!” Does her best to lean past Nancy out into the parking lot as the automatic doors close and open at a furious pace, “José, JOSÉ bring the car!!”

At this point the Chola is hopping around and has crisscrossed her arms in front of her (imagine a mummy wrapped up to go into a tomb) and is body slamming Nancy.  She’s trying with futility to get past her, out of the store.  

Only when José comes screeching around the corner in his busted ass red Pontiac ’97 Sunbird, does Nancy get distracted enough to allow the Chola to get past her.  The Chola hops out of the store in a blaze of fury, while Nancy abandons hope of grabbing and pulling her back in runs for the phone to talk to the police.  Meanwhile, José seeing that the coast is clear, runs back into the store gives us all a terrified glance, grabs the Chola’s wheelchair folds it up, runs outside, throws it into the  trunk and squeals out of the parking lot.

Nancy: Still cradling the phone between her shoulder and face while giving descriptions to the police, “I can help someone on register #1.”