Unidentified Woman Laughed At Me

Today, February 28, 2012, between 11:30 AM and 12:43 PM, at the Bakersfield, California Rosedale Plaza Best Buy, a woman whom I don't even know laughed at me while I was, in her words, "watching a video," while she, apparently facing and looking at me, was standing in front of the back cash-register counter, and, at the same time, I was standing in front of a floor-model 6 GB DDR touch-screen Windows 7 PC that had been displayed on the shelf closest to the customer's right-hand side of that same store's back cash-register island, which was located in the aisle between the touch-screen and the tablet computers. I notified one of the cashiers located on the customer's right-hand side of that same cash-register island about that unfamiliar woman's suspicious behavior. Then, immediately, a slender, middle-aged, blond-haired Caucasian woman of average height, apparently buying something while standing in front of that same cashier's cash-register station, immediately spoke up. Upon recognizing that woman's voice, I then told that same cashier, who had immediately begun to leave his behind-the-counter post next to that same cash register and approach me, while I was standing in front and on the customer's right-hand side of that same cash-register island, "that might be the same woman who laughed at me...her voice sounds familiar...but she has never ever been my beneficiary in any way, shape, or form...check the surveillance video," a command with which that same cashier, a black-haired Asian-American man in his early thirties of average height and weight, apparently agreed, while facing me, with a reply, "Okay." At that very moment in time, while that same cashier was standing a few feet away from that same cash-register counter's far right-hand side, that same woman, still standing in front of that same cash-register counter at the location of that same cash register, did not turn to me at all in order to even remotely hint at having even barely acknowledged my presence at all in any way, shape, or form, while I remained standing, chillingly alone, in that empty row between the customer's right-hand side of that same cash-register counter and that same shelf on which was displayed that same touch-screen PC from which I had just viewed that same colorful amateur video about which that woman had just remarked, and on which I had also, at that very same time, listened to a children's song about ducks. The video did not move much, but was easy to edit into a variety of different colors and enhancements.  As I sheepishly walked away from that PC, I left that duck song playing, somewhat loudly, at that, hoping that such an everlastingly jeering nature of that really dumb song would get that woman's goat by making her think that I was calling her a dumb duck. "Quack! Quack! That dumb duck," I hoped that woman thought that I was saying to everyone everywhere, all of whom would be understanding very clearly that I was speaking directly and obviously about her, "followed me all of the way to that store just to be called an idiotic duck really, really loudly right there in front of all of those people just so that all of the people of the world might understand really, really well how dumb that dumb duck really, really is!"

Intent upon not allowing that woman to get her way at making me seem insane, I tried to clear my eyes of fogginess and began to wander around those same computer aisles, trying to act like nothing unusual had occurred, while looking for those faster types of touch-screen computers, the ones with 6, not 4, GB of DDR memory, lightly tapping the tip of my index finger on practically every one of that same store's computer monitor's screens in order to determine which particular types of computers had been equipped with touch-screen operations. After reaching the aisle between the PCs and the Apples, to two women, who, while standing and talking in such a way as to be heard but, for some reason, not really understood, seemed to have something to do with that laughing woman's behavior, I turned and said, "beneficiaries." In about twenty minutes, I approached the front security guard, a light-brown-haired Caucasian man in his early thirties of above average height and weight, who was standing behind the front security island, and began to describe to that same security guard the behavior of that woman who had just laughed at me. In front of that same security island, to that same security guard, I pleaded, "In this store, just a few minutes ago, while I briefly had been ravenously salivating over the prospects of owning a brand new, fast and powerful touch-screen personal computer, a blond-haired woman had really, really loudly told me that I, in case I didn't know, was actually watching a video, as if I didn't really know what I was really doing, and then really, really loudly laughed at me, as if I could ever be so insane not even to know what I would be doing so much so that I would ever need anyone to follow me all the way to this store only to really obviously pretend to have to inform me about what I might be really doing, just so that she could get paid lots and lots of money for passing off to the public eye as some kind of professionally employed caretaker of the mentally ill, and then she bought something, yet there I was honestly looking for a good computer, and, by the way, I really do want a fast and powerful touch-screen computer, but I don't even have enough money to buy one, and that woman who laughed at me is not my beneficiary nor has ever been my beneficiary in any way, shape, or form, and she had enough money to buy something, and that's not fair." I had actually been shopping while bankrupt, for no one had ever claimed to be my beneficiary in the first place, and that strange woman with lots of money had showed up laughing at me for wanting a touch-screen computer, as if I could ever make sense out of a perfect stranger showing up just one more time again in my life completely out of the blue just to try to prove that she had been assigned a right to spy on and interrogate me for having hardly any money in the first place, compared to herself, anyway, for that matter, she would have probably thought, as far as I was concerned, considering her obvious love of and devotion for money, not people, when she really should have been nicer to everyone, including me, of course.

In the meantime, during that same conversation between myself and that same security guard, those other two women, one, the mother, upper middle-aged with grey, medium-length hair, and, side-by-side, alongside her, her daughter, wearing sunglasses, younger middle-aged with light-brown, shoulder-length hair, and slightly shorter than her apparently tired mother who seemingly had dutifully tagged along with that demanding family member of hers only to keep her company, both to whom I had said, "beneficiaries," had approached the customer's right-hand side of that same security island and also my right-hand side while I was still standing in front of that same security island. To that same security guard, that younger, shorter, light-brown-haired woman apparently said, "we were located at the tablet computers," and, at the same time, either handed something or simply showed something to that same security guard, who said to her, "you bought something," and then both of those women immediately walked through that same store's set of right exit doors located just beyond that same security island, in front of which I was still standing. At that same time, that same security guard, while still standing behind that same security island, then apologized to me for that other, previously-described, laughing woman's behavior, after having told me in that same brief, yet heartfelt, conversation, which he had held in confidence with me, that his company could not really do much of anything about that woman's behavior because she was a customer, not an employee. I immediately yet patiently then left that security island and walked through that same set of exit doors through which those two other women had just walked. That apparently decent man's sweet apology was a godsend and all I really needed from anyone, actually. If that evil woman could have just apologized to me, just once, just like that professional man could, then that annoying spying and interrogating might finally have been all over and I could finally have possessed a good life worth living. I wanted a bask in the sunlight, a stroll on the beach. When was I going to have that privacy I so desperately needed?

Just prior to that day's Best Buy shopping mishap, I had shopped at Walmart, adjacent to that same Best Buy store. Inside that Walmart, from one of the grocery aisle shelves, I had brought two boxes of Great Value Mashed Potatoes, both priced at $1.38, to one of the cash-register counters, behind which the cashier had stated that the total price for both boxes was "$2.76," for which I had told that same cashier, "I don't have the six cents...can you please delete one of them?" The new price, $1.38, for that single remaining mashed potatoes box, labeled with UPC 0-78742-06287-7 and Net Wt. 13 oz. (369 g), had resulted in a subtraction from the final remaining balance on my Walmart gift card account to a second final remaining balance of $1.32, which I later used on that same day for another shopping experience at that same Walmart after I had just left that adjacent Best Buy, where that blond-haired woman had just laughed at me.

At Walmart, on that second occasion, after having left that adjacent Best Buy, I had purchased three cans of Great Value Vienna Sausage, labeled with UPC 0-78742-43374-5 and Net Wt. 5 oz. (142 g), for a total price of $1.29, which resulted in a subtraction from the second final remaining balance on my Walmart gift card account to a third final remaining balance of $0.03. After that same purchase, while immediately walking out of that same Walmart store and passing in front of that same Walmart's check-out lanes, I heard that same woman laughing at me and, turning to the check-out lanes, stopped and, blindly to the air around me, asked, "Is that you...the video woman?" Not seeing that woman, I kept on walking out of that Walmart store right through that same store's set of front exit doors and, while on the sidewalk adjacent to the front of that same Walmart, walking towards the customer's right-hand side of that store, that is, when the customer would be facing the store's front entrance, I heard apparently that same woman laughing at me again, yet, even while turning around, though briefly, in order to perhaps be lucky enough to quickly identify her, I did not see her that time, either. I turned back around and, still on that same sidewalk, walked straight ahead to that same store's Golden Empire Transit bus stop located a few yards past the end of that Walmart store's customer's right-hand side, that is, when the customer would be facing that same store from that same store's front parking lot, and then waited for and soon boarded the next departing number 14-Downtown bus, on which I rode back home, where, while, although apparently being spied on, I gently cooked some mashed potatoes and sausage, as if there wasn't anything so bizarre about being spied on inside my own apartment that common household operations like cooking and cleaning didn't really seem out of the question. I poured some of the powdered mashed potatoes right out of the box into a medium-sized stainless-steel bowl, added some hot faucet water, stirred, with a teaspoon, the hot water and powdered potatoes, stopping at that stiffening point when the water-potatoes mixture held that familiar consistency reminiscent of real mashed potatoes, drained a can of Vienna sausages, quickly dropped all eight of the cold Vienna sausages right onto the top of the warm mashed potatoes, and finally ate it all up. Yum!

As far as I am concerned, the above-described events might be directly related to my unfamiliar experiences of being at least seemingly personally spied on, perhaps combined at least seemingly with being secretly interrogated, both unfamiliar experiences at least seemingly related to unfamiliar torture methods at least seemingly conducted as if by personally unidentified strangers, at least seemingly utilizing certain, as of yet undisclosed, secret information-gathering methods, at least seemingly related to at least some of what might be my own personal experiences at least seemingly involving spiritually-invasive two-way communicative disturbances at least seemingly resembling the paranormal or supernatural. Regarding any of the above-described events, if you have any information that could lead to an arrest, please contact the Bakersfield police department.