Wednesday, December 21, 2016

Abandoned at Wal Mart

Our town recently got a shiny new Super Wal Mart, a much bigger, newer version of the dank dystopia that was our old Un-super Wal Mart. One thing you can always count on though, people abandoning random groceries in the check-out line. I think we have all been there. You are standing in the check-out line and you remember that you don't have unlimited money, metabolism, or space, and you can't buy everything. Decisions must be made. Here's how I imagine some of those decisions going down:

Mom: "Where did these frogs come from?"
Mom: "No. Also are you done looking at that book? Because we aren't buying that either."
I've been there. I figure letting my kid peruse a book I have no intention of buying is how the store purchases some peace for the general customer population. (Plus payback for strategically putting all the gum and candy where kids can grab it and I can't stop them.)

"Oh look, they make chips out of potatoes and corn." Hubert mused aloud.
"Interesting," Edna answered absently, still nervous about the tea-tree mask. Bertha said this is how all her wrinkles disappeared, while she was out sick, but Edna wasn't sure it was worth having her eye-brows frozen in place forever.
"I SAID NO TOYS" bellowed a mom one aisle over.

A curious man, Hubert decided to sample a Flamin' Hot Cheeto before committing to giving up the pea-crisps. "Edna!" he gasped. Tears filled his eyes, tears brought on by more than cayenne pepper and citric acid. He earnestly held out the bag to her.
"It's--" She searched the air for words.
"Amazing." They breathed in unison.
"I think it's time we stopped living vicariously and started, really living, don't you?" Edna smiled, dropping the mask. Hubert chucked "The Sims" grinning and taking his wife's arm.
"WE AREN'T GETTING THIS DUCK EITHER!" someone shrieked in the background.

Bernice watched as the couple reverently payed and strolled out of the store, the bag of Cheetos between them. She re-adjusted her date-night sweater-set. Maybe it's time for Herb to see the real me.
"Paper or plastic?" The cashier interrupted her reverie. Bernice took just one more moment to steel herself, and then made the switch.
"No bag thanks. I can carry the jerky." And for the first time, in a long time, she felt the rush of first-date-butterflies in her stomach.

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