Your baby's stank diaper is more important than your shopping.
Ma'am, I don't know what you fed that fat little lump of baby-love, but ... there's no way around this ... it stinks like roadkill. Roadkill with a side of dead roadkill on a roadkill bun.
Corned beef and cabbage coming out the hind end of a Guinness-fueled Irishman at the end of a week-long bender would be preferable to the smell of that.
I can see a diaper bag. I can see diapers. The restroom is less than 20 feet away. Unless that bag is full of stolen merchandise, please, for the love of Cthulu, put a fresh diaper on it. Can't you hear it screaming in aggravation? But damn, you're going to stand right here and argue over $1.64 on the price of a clearance shirt aren't you?
A screaming baby is bad enough. One that smells so bad other customers are asking me if there is something wrong is too much. And it just keeps howling louder. No. Reaching an arm back to "shush" it isn't going to work. You need to give it some attention.
Please. If you cannot care for it, do not have it. It is not just a source of "free mawney frum de gubbermint." It is a human life. One that right now smells like the day after at an Indian food bazaar.
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