Monday, September 19, 2011

The Squeaky Wheel Gets The Shame

Morning Readers,

     After a long day of football, Husband was in no shape to go grocery shopping. My heart bled for him - for how brave he'd been to watch game after game without stopping. I clutched his hand.  "Where do you find the strength to go on.....to keep those handsome eyes open, shining so bravely into the bleak world that is professional sports? Does it make your pupils hurt?" How could I possibly ask the man to go buy shredded cheese, when he'd beached himself on the couch so nobly? Staunching my tears of pride, I drove to the grocery store, found a parking spot that would tone my calves, and went to grab the first cart I saw.

     Squeeeeeeeek .... Nudging it in front of me a few feet, I walked casually behind and tried to pretend it wasn't my cart. A greying lady stopped me.

     "That your cart?"

     "What cart? Get your eyes checked, grandma. Oh, and you dropped your fiber shakes."

     But the noise persisted and seemed to grow louder. I read a lot, so I know to keep a lookout for suspicious, inanimate objects. If the shopping cart was trying to embarrass me and then kill me, well, I couldn't say Stephen King hadn't warned me.

"When we get to that truck stop, everything will be alright." ....sure it will.

     By the time the dairy section came into view, the racket was atrocious. As I passed, the noise blanketed fellow shoppers. Children threw fruit. Babies cried. Old people squared-off and prepared to duel to death in their electric scooters.Covering my face with my hand, I attempted to ignore the sound of metallic embarrassment, ignore the couple who'd been holding hands, and was now sketching divorce papers on the back of a bagel bag. It was no use.

     I rounded the bend. Cartons of eggs scattered to find their respective chickens. Cows sprinted
to re-claim their milk lest the woman with the possessed cart took it home and dispersed it to her off-spring. A pig carrying two cases of pork rinds knocked over a man stocking oat bran, shouting, "Get outta my way b-b-b-bran-stocker."

     Quickly, I threw a few things in the cart, power walked to the cashier, and squeaked all the way through the parking lot. Wrong aisle.  Going into super-stealth-ninja-turtle mode, I carefully wheeled through two parked cars.  Ten feet away, I snagged a plastic cup on my back right wheel. A teenager watched as I squeaked and dragged trash, all the way to the car.

I hate shopping carts...

Thoughts?

Until Next Time, Readers!