Grapes of Wrath

Apparently, there are two lawsuits going on in the Chicago area right now by two different people against two different grocery stores.  Both are women, both were shopping at the time, and both suffered grievous injury after slipping on these.

Look at that smug, juicy, delicious little bastard.

Yes.  Grapes.  Now, this sounds suspiciously like the lawsuit that gave rise to the title of this blog in the first place, but there are reasons that these are even worse.

First of all, the guy who sued over the onion rings was doing what you’re supposed to do with onion rings: eat them.  Yes, he’s a jackass for not making sure it wasn’t injury-causingly hot before biting into it, but still, he was on the right track.  Grapes, on the other hand, are not intended for standing upon.  They are not mechanisms for making oneself taller, nor should they be employed as transportation, unless your goal is to introduce your head to the floor with great alacrity.

It is good to have goals.  It is not good to have that one.

One woman, who is 64, is suing for $50,000 because she incurred twenty-one thousand dollars in medical expenses when she struck her “head, neck, and body” (so all of her) after slipping on the pernicious little ovoids.  This, to me, begs the question of how the fuck do you do that kind of damage to yourself on a grape?  Were you trying to hurt yourself?  Were you taking a run up to it, then jumping atop it with the hopes of riding it, skimboard-like, down the aisle, and possibly also doing this near heavy cans and glass jars stacked in an unstable and towering fashion (side note: I’m totally trying that next time I go shopping)?  I know old people are fragile, but if she’s fragile it means she was probably shuffling along like a gray-haired and non-mossy sloth.  I don’t get it.

The best part is the quote from the lawyer representing this woman.  “Produce sections are notoriously dangerous,” he said, probably wearing a trenchcoat and a hat pulled over his eyes and delivering these words from a dark alley.  “I’ve had people fall on watermelon juice, rotten grapes, and cherry tomatoes.” At this point, the lawyer apparently “grew a bit contemplative” and added, “I have never actually had the proverbial banana peel, though.”  He sounds like a great guy, really.

The one thing that could prevent such travesties?  Not stepping on grapes.  Really, the only reason you should ever step on a grape is if you’re not paying attention to where you’re going, and whose fault is that?  That’s a rhetorical question.  Answer: your fault.  If you’re running and looking for your pet bat in the rafters and step on a grape, it’s your fault for running and what the hell did you bring your bat for anyway I told you he wouldn’t hold still.  If you’re an old person with bones like toothpicks who can rack up such an enormous bill from falling over, watch where you’re fucking going.  Seriously, if you had to drive on the interstate in a car made of plywood, you’d be the most cautious, self-aware driver that has ever existed.

Like these guys.

No matter how you slice it, it’s your fault for stepping on the damn thing to begin with.  After all, it’s not like the grapes can jump out an attack you, right?


Uh oh . . .

Well apparently they can.  To quote our old friend the lawyer again, “They are very stealthy, those grapes.  They are small, they are round and they roll. . . . They don’t make a sound when they hit the floor.”

That’s right, people, you read that correctly.  Grapes are ninjas.  None of us is safe.

One thought

  1. Gaahhh! I have grapes in my fridge right now, those f***ers are going to get me in my sleep! What am I going to do? Only one thing to do: eat them before they eat me…or whatever ninja grapes do. I'm still going to eat them first.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s