Short story: Sometimes something bad turns out to be sort of amusing in the end

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Carl Bunsone, was a stay at home joe. He never liked to venture out much, and he kept to himself, always. One day, Carl had to go out. He needed to buy some supplies for his pantry. Carl took the bus down to his local supermarket then, and he ventured inside. Carl filled his basket with his wants, and he was about to go towards the cash register, when some fat old lady pushed past him, standing still there, for a moment. "Step aside, Joe, " she said, "Make way, for someone, in a hurry." Carl went to the cash register, feeling a bit peeved about this. He had sustained a nasty push into his kidney areas, from this monstrous specimen of humanity. Carl placed his goods on the conveyor belt there, taking his time, to place them in order, of category. Cold goods with other cold goods. Soft goods with other soft goods. Cans with cans. Fruit and vegetables with each other too. This was also how he wanted them to be separately packed into his bags. Just as he had finished doing this, this same fat nasty woman, smashed through again. "Step aside old man," she said, not even recognising him from the first hefty bump, that she had delivered to him before. "I only have one item. Make way for me. I have no time to wait for you dilly dallying types here now." Carl said nothing, and let the uncouth cow go through. (That's what he had called her in his head). Carl took his goods, and he walked with his two, or three, bags of shopping, towards the bus stop, Suddenly, he heard someone running up behind him. He held onto his shopping bags, just a bit more strongly. Someone then tried to grab one of his bags, but old Carl was as quick as a rabbit, running down his hole, escaping a fox. He got his old walking stick, and swung it hard at this intruder, to his space, to his face. Whoever it was, went down in a heap. Carl felt immensely proud of himself. Carl had been annoyed with himself earlier, for letting that fat old lady push him around with her considerable weight advantage, but this little episode had all but made up for this now. Then, Carl turned around to see who exactly it was that he had hit, with his stick. It was a wiry, thin, looking youth, of around 20, with puncture marks all up his arms to show to everyone what his habit was. Drug abuse. Carl looked along the footpath a bit further, and it was then that he saw that huge, fat, mountain of a woman, once more again. This type she was whimpering, and staring, glaring at Carl. "What have you just done to my young son," she yelled out at him, angrily. It was obvious to Carl, that the mother had told her son to rob him, or at least to attempt to do so, as she knew that for sure he would be an easy pushover. Carl laughed. "Well," he thought to himself, "of all the mother's that this wayward youth could have had, this makes some sort of sense, I guess". Carl kept moving, boarded his bus, and went home, with a wide grin on his chin, or just above it, that is. He had not had such a wide smile on his dial, for many years. He was proud of what he had just done. Photo Credit: The photo used in this article was sourced from the free media site, pexels.com Old Carl could still wield a stick to lick a young punk. Do you think his behaviour was warranted though, or not?