I hate grocery shopping!
Driving into the parking lot, I see other shoppers circling their wagons looking for a spot as the “parking lot rodeo” goes full force. My accelerator’s going up and down like a bride’s nightie as I look for a space, and finally, spying an opening, I burn a u-ee, stomping on that gas pedal like I’m killing ants.
Darn! It’s one of those Handicap slots! Just once I’d like to see a spot for people who didn’t have small children, people who could walk just fine and weren’t preggers. I eventually score a spot, pull my clunker in, and then notice that I’m so far from the building that I may as well have parked at home! I suck it up and head for the store, already feeling like a loser in the game show of life. I can almost hear the words…. ”Come on Down” in my head.
Inside the store I get my shopping cart from “Wheel of Misfortune!” It’s the buggy with the rogue wheel, and that wheel was spinning around like the Tilt-a-Whirl at a County Fair. This cart’s a loose cannon. It veered to the right, was difficult to control and suddenly ran into something that brought that wagon to a screeching halt. I look down… Good Gravy. It’s just a piece of lint! Wow, that piece of lint’s more powerful than a spike belt!
I check my list. What the? My writing’s so bad that I can’t even read it, so I ditch it and head through the aisles. Passing the bakery (aka “Temptation Island”) on through the meat department (aka “The Price Is Wrong”) and over toward the deli, (aka “Hell’s Kitchen”), I advance to the qualifying round of my imaginary game show.
My cart’s packed, I’m going to cash out, and I’m wondering if I can win the checkout lottery and end up the “Survivor”.
Cashier number one looks as handy as a crack in a glass eye, so I’m torn between cashier contestants from the “Apprentice” and “Are You Smarter than a Fifth Grader? Instead I decide to go with number four, “Twenty Questions”, hoping that she’s run out of them so I can get out in time for lunch. Things are looking good, but wait! Two victims from the front… disaster! Someone’s asking for a price check! Noooooooooooooo! I should have picked door number three.
The next thing I know, it’s my turn in the elimination round, and my bill’s racking up like food’s going to be declared illegal tomorrow. Would I like to marry a millionaire? Hell yes! Sign me up, since this is going to cost a bundle. I nervously watch the total, and when it appears, I feel like I’ve been tasered in the naughty bits.
“Excuse me, would you like some bags?” Did I just hear that? I look at the counter full of groceries. Bags? Of course I want bags! If I didn’t need bags, I’d put all this under my coat, walk out, and hope that someone’s home when I make that ‘one’ phone call.
I don’t need groceries, I need a nap! I pay up, and then I’m out of there faster than a Somalian chicken. I’m finally ready to head home, so what could possibly go wrong?
Now… where did I park that car???
Author Val Enders resides in Spruce Grove, Alberta. She married her high school sweetheart, Richard, and they’ve been together for over 40 years. Val doesn’t consider herself a writer by profession, rather she writes more for her own enjoyment. An accomplished artist, Val’s a member of the Allied Arts Council of Spruce Grove. Visit Val’s “Journey Into Art” website at www.vals.webs.com
