The Case of the Attacker Grape

I love mysteries. After my obsession with the Babysitter's Club books ended, I turned to Sherlock Holmes. Then in seventh grade, Emily Baines did a book report on "And Then There Were None" by Agatha Christie. My passion for mysteries reached new heights. (I'm a snob though. I only read mysteries written by British authors with titles like "Sir" and "Dame." None of this Dan Brown, Mary Higgins Clark stuff.)

This mystery is somewhat slimy and gross. Last night as I was walking into Harris Teeter (the local "high end" grocery store--it's a step below Whole Foods); rocking out to a mix of Boys Like Girls, Coldplay, and Foo Fighters; wearing capri-length yoga pants and running shoes. Not more than four inches of calf exposed to the elements. I walked through the first set of sliding doors and passed what I now remember to be a suspicious looking man.

And then splat, something wet and slimy hit my four inches of exposed right calf.

I looked back like a dog chasing its tail. A leaf? Nope, this object had more depth than a leaf. I looked more closely. A chewed up grape? Really? Ewww... Being a high-end grocery store, Harris Teeter leaves napkins out in front of the deli. Fortunately. How in the world???

If you step on a grape and keep moving forward, it doesn't end up on your calf. Grapes don't fall from the sky. How did the attacker grape get me? I suspect the grape attacker. That suspicious man standing, waiting in between the sliding doors. Good aim, grape attacker.