Yesterday I was beset by an unfortunate series of events in the local Save A Lot. Okay. There were only two unfortunate events. But even you must admit that "an unfortunate couple of events" or "an unfortunate pair of events" just doesn't have the same ring to it.
I had just entered the store and pulled a cart from the stacks when an old man darted in front of me. And by "darted," I mean he shuffled along like an elephant pulling a red circus wagon containing a pacing lion behind bars. I was in a hurry, but this arthritic darter did not perturb me. After all, he had only left his cart to check out a display of Little Debbies on a special sale rack. I can't fault him for that.
Moving on down the front aisle, I caught a whiff of a most unpleasant odor. It was a combination of the perfume worn by old women, and poop. I suppose eau de toilette would be a good name for it. I don't know what this fragrance is, but both my grandmas used it, and later my mom used it, and I recoil and sometimes gag at the scent. It's like they use it to cover up their unwashedness. Not that my grandmas or mother smelled of poop, mind you. It was just that fragrance over an underlying aura of unbathedness.
I held my breath and continued past the limes, deciding not to waste my money on those big bright green behemoths, and instead grab a bag of the tiny dull ones at Walmart the next day. On down past the yogurt and cheese and biscuits and eggs to the sour crea--SWEET GRANDMA'S SPATULA--there was that odor again! Stronger! I spied the old man, now with an old woman, putzing around near the end of the pickle aisle. Whew! I shot up that aisle while holding my breath. I grabbed my pickles and sweet banana pepper rings and sliced black olives, and turned to go down the pasta and canned meat aisle. Not because I wanted anything there, but because I needed to return to the back aisle. I'll be dadgummed if those stinkers weren't coming right at me! "I'll need to lean on that cart now," said Grampy. And Granny pushed it over to him, fanning the air and making me wonder how they could be getting more potent as they progressed through their shopping.
Yeah. They followed me EVERYWHERE. I couldn't get away. Act like I forgot something and go two aisles back? They were onto that strategy. They appeared right behind me. I did not try to outrun them, because when they eventually caught up, their stinky air bubble would keep coasting right at me. I had a fleeting thought to dash up the mouthwash/deodorant/soap aisle, sweeping products off the shelf that might break open and splash on them...but I was afraid they might slip, and grab one of my ankles and bring me down on top of their writhing, odorous, less-than-fresh bodies. So I decided to hold my breath as long as I could, then breath through my mouth. Even though that meant I would, in effect, be eating their stink.
My other unfortunate Save A Lot event was the Great Empty Cardboard Box Caper. I know that every Saturday, Save A Lot runs low on cardboard boxes. If you've never had the pleasure of stinking up the place, it's a store where you bag or box your own purchases. There's a counter up front by the windows, with empty boxes from their merchandise stacked under it. They have plastic bags on several racks, too, if you're in the mood for bagging (if anybody writes a song using that title, I demand a royalty).
Because I know that Saturdays are scanty box days, I was on the lookout for boxes as I shopped. It's not hard. Usually, you can take a few boxes of cereal, or bags of noodles, and stack them on the next box of product and take that empty box up to the register in your cart. But I wasn't seeing any suitable boxes. Even on the pickle aisle, it looked like somebody had already consolidated the products on the shelves. Then I heard and saw the problem.
At the head of the pickle aisle was a big metal cart just rounding the end cap. A worker dude in a red shirt was pushing that squeaky metal cart, which was stacked with EMPTY BOXES! And he was coming from the direction where I was heading. Most often, the employees speak to you in there. But this one did not. I went past him. If he had only spoken, I would have greeted him and said, "Hey, bud, do you mind if I take a couple of these boxes off your cart?" Because that's what they do with them. They stack them up front for the customers to use. Since he didn't acknowledge me, I let him be. Sometimes people just want to be left alone to do their job.
I headed for the frozen food end. That's always a good place to find boxes, inside the glass doors, where the workers forget to straighten. I've always had success with chicken chunk boxes, or Texas Garlic Toast boxes. But not this day! They were picked clean! I knew that worker dude had to be over on the last aisle, where I had come in. Surely he would be taking those empty boxes up front to put under the counter. ACK! The STINKERS were back! I veered back toward the center of the store to excape, and to bide my time until the boxes were put out. I really hate using those plastic bags for heavy things like pickle jars.
After evading those STINKERS, I headed back toward the frozen food/chip aisle for some salsa and tortilla chips. And to my horror, I heard and saw the worker dude PUSHING HIS CART OF EMPTY BOXES INTO THE BACK STOREROOM IN THE FREEZER SECTION! Darn that fellow! I suppose he might have been planning to move, and needed the boxes for himself. Which helped me not at all. I went up front to check out.
At the bagging counter, all I could find was a long box with its top flaps still on, and holes in the sides, with a waxy coating, proclaiming CUCUMBERS. That had to do. I wasn't proud. ACK! The STINKERS again, right beside me, bagging their own purchases.
I hope that box hoarder was in the back, building two voodoo dolls of the STINKERS, preparing to douse them with liquid soap.
