...Even though I was the one wrestling a screaming, wailing, flailing toddler into the car seat, and you were staring right at me, your magnificent powers of observation somehow failed to connect the dots. I somehow could not see that you were also trying to get in to your car.
But you were certain that I was being a jerk to you on purpose. Yes, that's it. I spotted you as you came out of the store and decided it would really perk up my day to block you from getting into your car. This is how I get my jollies, actually. I cut in front of you with my squirming child just in time to make you think you were going to get in your car first... psych! Ha, I win. I made it to the car door first.
This all went exactly as planned. I even made a little map for myself as I walked toward the car. But first I had to use my magical stopwatch to buy myself a little extra time, natch, because of said crying child. So, using my magical stopwatch, I bought myself an extra hour so as to draw a detailed diagram and a minute-by-minute plan of how this would go down.
I even briefed my screaming child-accomplice, who in my Magical Stopped Time World was no longer screaming, and could talk in complete sentences. She can also feed herself, is potty trained, and never ever grabs random items off the shelves in the store. Also, unicorns. Magical flying ones with pink wings made of cotton candy. You can ride them around and eat delicious cotton candy while making dastardly plans to sabotage people's entry into their cars. But then of course if you eat up all the pink cotton candy unicorn wings you will go crashing to the ground. Fortunately, the ground is now made of marshmallow peeps and gum drops, so it's cool. My plans came to fruition exactly as intended. You were forced to wait an extra 60 seconds to get into your car. Ha! Sucker! It was almost too easy, like eating cotton candy unicorn wings and then bouncing joyously on a gum drop floor.
Since you then viciously cursed at me for getting in your way, you can go jump off a cliff into a pool of candied yams. I would say something meaner except it would not be very Christian of me. But since I very strongly dislike candied yams, that satisfies my need to say something really angry.