Grocery Shopping Adventures

It’s Labor Day, which doesn’t mean as much to me as it probably means to a bunch of other people. I always have Mondays off, so all this means is my very tiny list of things to do on Mondays is cut even shorter. Which of course means more time to stare at the computer screen while my hands manipulate a keyboard and mouse.

Believe it or not, this can get boring after a while, so eventually I got it into my head that I ought to have some sort of lunch. Which I did. Doesn’t really matter what I had, because it’s not really the point of the story I’m about to tell. The story I’m about to tell takes place a few minutes later, at the grocery store. Specifically, one of the Key Food grocery stores that dot Queens Boulevard. I’ll leave it up to you to guess which one (hint, no one cares and it’s not important).

Upon arriving at the grocery store, the first thing that catches my attention is the tabloids. Evidently, the “police” are now looking into Obama’s birth certificate thing. I don’t know who these police are and what jurisdiction they hail from, but they must be very official and powerful.

Beyond that, I also can’t help but notice that every celebrity who is still alive is either in the process of getting married, enjoying a honeymoon, adopting more foreign children, going through a painful break up, or enjoying a sexy sexy rebound. These are objective facts supported by pictures of celebrities making certain facial expressions. I love our wonderful press and how they never take anything out of context: the truth is the only thing worth telling. God bless them all.

The first and most important thing on my mind was getting some food for future meals, so I headed down the canned food aisle. There I was greeted by a chorus of Chef Boyardee’s canned pasta…things.

“Buy us, Anthony!” they exclained, “we are on sale! $3 will buy you two of us, and we know how much you love eating two cans of pasta at a time!”

With a heavy heart I replied “But alas, $1.50 a can is more than I wish to spend on cheap mass-produced pasta. I shall look elsewhere.”

“Come lunch time tomorrow, you’ll beg for us!” they cried as I left the aisle.

Turning the corner, I saw a row of 1 gallon water bottles. They said nothing, for water is a humble substance that requires no advertisement. Sadly, the Little Debbie products are vainglorious creatures.

“Buy me, Anthony!” screamed the Nutter Bars, “you always do! YOU ALWAYS DO!”

“Indeed” I said evenly, “but I think I shall change things up a bit today. It is a holiday, after all.”

“A plague on both your houses!” it replied. I thought to inform him that I lacked even a single house, let alone two, but I thought it best to leave it at that.

Despite the improbability of it all, I somehow found myself entering the baking aisle. A strange place for one such as I.

“Buy us, Anthony!” begged the rich chocolate frosting and baking mix, “together we shall make a cake the gods themselves shall envy!”

“Fools!” I said with great anger, “do you not know that I have never baked a cake? I certainly do not intend to bake one tonight!”

“Is it not a holiday?” They retorted.

“A pox on your holiday!”

With haste I headed further down the aisle, to look upon the Kool-Aids and other drink mixes, but I could find none that demanded my purchase. I moved on, and found myself face to face with bag after bag of Doritos.

“Oh, and I suppose you wish me to purchase you as well?” I asked, my every word dripping with venom.

“No, but we would be quick to point out that holding conversations out loud with the items on the shelf is indicative of a severe mental imbalance.”

“Go to Hell, Doritos!”

“This is our Hell.”

Angered and slightly disturbed by the Doritos bags, I made my way to the breakfast foods aisle. It was there that I finally spotted a product worthy of my purchase: a box of granola bars who lacked high fructose corn syrup as an ingredient. It was too intruiging to resist. Equally worthy were the Nutri-Grain bars on the shelf above.

With my choices in hand, I strolled triumphantly to the cash register, and it was only then that I realized I was having all of those conversations out loud. The manager of the store kindly asked me to leave immediately, explaining that I need not pay for my items if I never returned. It was the greatest day of my entire life.


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 )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ 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

%d bloggers like this: