This evening I had to run in Save A Lot to spend a lot on cookout vittles for the #1 son and seven of his closest friends that he's bringing home from college tomorrow. I thought it would be simple. Just dash in, grab items a la Supermarket Sweep, and hot-foot it out to T-Hoe.
Mrs. Hillbilly Mom thinks. Save A Lot weirdos laugh.
There was a little old lady who passed me on the yogurt aisle. I'm not so slow that a little old lady can overtake me. I was perusing the Coburn Farms Light yogurt for decent expiration dates. The strawberry-banana was only two weeks, but the cherry cheesecake was into November. So I tried to move on down the yogurt aisle, which is for me, not for #1's people, to the french onion dip, which is theirs. That spindly little old lady would not move along. She had me trapped between a cardboard center-aisle chip display, and the cheeses. She finally tottered on.
I grabbed the dip and headed for ketchup and mustard. Came down the cookie aisle and grabbed some frosted oatmeal. There she was again! The Stock Blocker. On the meat aisle, next to the hot dogs and sausages. Right where I needed to go. I could see them looming on the other side of her, the Super Dogs. She was, after all, nearly transparent. She was looking at me like she knew what she was doing. Like a schoolboy letting out a silent slow fart when he comes to your desk to ask a question. I huffed off to look for the marshmallows, and circled back for the Super Dogs when the coast was clear.
I'll be gosh-darned if she didn't start up my short-cut while I was moving two boxes of faux Ritz Crackers into a larger box so I could have theirs for toting my boy-food home. Stock Blocker kind of listed to one side, like she had lost an oar. Like a dog runs sideways. Like my gravitational pull was drawing her skeleton toward me. I barely made it past her without contact.
I found name-brand chips three for $9.00, which I don't consider a bargain, but I grabbed them anyway. Loaded my cart with Save A Lot brand sodas Bubba Cola, Tubz Root Beer, and Mountain Holler. Oh, and some fruit punch in foil like Capri Sun. I don't remember the name. Probably something such as Pedal-Pusher Moon.
Wheeling up the home stretch between the glass-doored ice cream freezers and the open-top frozen dinner coolers, I saw Stock Blocker singlehandedly shutting down that thoroughfare. She had one scarecrow arm on the center cooler, her legs splayed, and right arm fully extended to grasp the side of her cart, which abutted a small stand-alone display of garlic salt or ice cream sprinkles. I swear. Stock Blocker's fossils formed an "X" that blocked the passage to the hot dog buns. She looked like the Blair Witch.
I'll be dag-nabbed if Stock Blocker didn't check out ahead of me, but come up behind me at the self-boxing counter. Standing at the hatch of T-Hoe with The Pony doing my heavy lifting, I spied Stock Blocker four cars down, slowly stowing her purchases in a minivan. AND THERE WAS ANOTHER BLAIR WITCH JUST LIKE HER!
Maybe I encountered more than one Stock Blocker. They all look alike.