Of all the creatures roaming this earth, I used to think the most dangerous was perhaps the death stalker scorpion, maybe the black mamba snake, the saltwater crocodile or possibly the Bengal tiger. They’re all deadly, and any one of them could be considered the most lethal.
But, nope, years of experience has taught me that the deadliest creature you can encounter is a woman shopping for her guy in the men’s department. She’s convinced her lazy idiot is incapable of doing it for himself. The lady has had enough of his ineffectual buffoonery.
She’s showing him how it’s done with a bloodthirsty display of territorial box-out moves, jabbing sharp elbows and exceedingly rapid decision-making. She’s flicking through the hangers faster than a bank’s cash counting machine devours a stack of dollar bills. This gyrating F-5 tornado of razor blade body parts is followed by oppressive demands that he try on every single item she picked out and sheepishly parade around in his socks with his head down while she loudly casts her verdict on his improved appearance. About time he wore something that actually fits. She’s doing the best she can given the horrible shape he’s in. Now, get your rear end back in the changing room while she charges like a rhino to the clothing racks for more.
This is the moment of greatest danger. If you should happen to get in her way with your typically plodding male shopping habits, especially when her guy is within eyesight to learn from momma “how we hunt for food,” she will bulldoze right through you for his awe and edification. And, if you should just happen to grab the item she wanted in his size before she can get to you, well, you’re done. There is no surviving this. You may as well have picked up a grizzly bear cub right in front of its mother and repeatedly smashed its little head on a rock.