I’m in the Grocery Store, and This Old Bag Bumps into Me…
Because your role is planned for you
There’s nothing you can do
Generally, when visiting the Local Grocer, in this case, Kroger, I bring along my Sweet Pea who serves not only as company, but as a barrier to any recently divorced Anti-Milf who may consider looking my way. In fact, going to “Dirty Kroger” has become something of a special event here in the fairlane household, and Bella gets ramped when she hears the words, “We have to go to the Grocery Today!, we’re down to a Heel, and Half a Pickle.”
Unfortunately, she was with Rose Mary (Who just had her baby), and was unable to make the trip. In hindsight, maybe it was for the best, as my trip turned into a disturbing mishmash of Vigilante Hankering, and Nostalgia for Simpler Times.
As previously mentioned, Bella usually rides Shotgun when “Dada” heads into Town, and as a result, I miss out on the Morons (Or “Fellow Americans,” as I’ve heard them called) rambling through the aisles with their Shit for Brains Kids, and Broken Down Husbands.
But not Today, Folks, Not TODAY!
Here’s a Picture to help set the tone-
So, I’m standing at the freezer trying to decide if we need one or two boxes of Veggie Sausage, and, Suddenly, I feel a presence to my right. I turn to look, and there stands this 107 year old woman with her cart aimed directly at my hip.
You see, Granny wants to look in the freezer to my left, and instead of going around, she’s deduced, logically no less, that the quickest route to her destination is, a Straight Line, and Mother Fuck any innocent bystanders who happen to be in the Way.
For a moment, we’re in the Midst of a Mexican Standoff; I’m looking at her, she’s trying to remember where she is, and it dawns on me that Gramma ain’t changing course, and unless I want to pummel Methuselah’s daughter, in the middle of the Frozen Food Aisle, I best haul ass, which I do (Just in the Nick, as it turns out).
I pull my cart away, and G’s, almost instantaneously, fills the void left by your Humble Author.
“Jesus Christ Granny!”
Yep, she would have hit me if not for my Ninja Like Reflexes.
“What in the Fuck is wrong with You?”
Trying not to get upset, I remember how you’re supposed to respect your Elders, and that Granny’s time on this Blue Orb is rapidly fading.
“She has to move quickly because she doesn’t have any time left to kill.”
I truly am a Humanitarian-
So, I head on over to the Organic Eggs on the other side of the aisle, and from my new Vantage, I decide, as a Public Service, to keep an eye on Grandma Moses.
And, as if on cue, before I can place my eggs in the cart, Granny backs her’s out, and almost runs over a Little Girl coming up from the rear.
No, “Excuse Me,” “Pardon Me,” or “Oh, I’m sorry young lady, I didn’t see you there.”
Nothing, she just backs out, and heads over to my side of the aisle.
*I know she saw the Little Girl, I know SHE DID!*
“Fuck, she’s headed my way again.”
But, in a stroke of luck, Granny diverts course, and heads away from the Eggs toward the Cheese section, which is a good Eight Feet from where I’m standing.
However, being a Concerned Citizen, and a Lover of All Things Human, I decide to hang back just in case someone needs to Intervene, or Testify in the Lawsuit.
And thank the Heavens I did.
It turns out that Granny is Hell Bent on Whacking at least one “Whipper Snapper,” before heading back to the Geriatric Unit at Central State.
(I’m not sure what in the Fuck she’s doing, but if that ain’t disturbing, I don’t know what is)
Out of the corner of my eye I see her slowly, but most assuredly, Creeping on a man, and his wife who are looking at the fine assortment of Kraft Processed “Cheese Foods.” Each step she gets closer, and closer, and…
“She isn’t going to say anything. She’s just going to Bum Rush them outta’ tha’ way.”
Granny reaches right in front of the woman’s face forcing her to do her best Keanu Reeves (Sans the Surfer Dude Dialogue) impression to keep from getting clocked in the nose by Granny’s Bow.
Not a Fucking Word. Doesn’t even look at the Woman. Snaps up her 24 pack of “Individually Sliced” whatever that Shit Is, and drops it in her Cart.
“I know a Menace when I see one, and that Bag is a Goddamn Menace.”
But Granny ain’t finished, oh, No, Kind Reader, she’s got Her Kill On.
She walks calmly back to the other side of her cart, grabs the handle, and proceeds to head straight for the now Unnerved Couple.
“She’s going for the Kill Shot!”
She pushes herself, and her cart, filled with about 200 lbs. of Canned Cat Food, into their path.
They part, like a Red Sea of Humanity, and watch as she goes by in Slow Motion, completely Oblivious to their Plight.
“Christ Almighty, someone has to do something. Quick, get some Rope, and muh Horse.”
I can’t let her get away, so, I snatch my cart, forgetting my Eggs, and follow at a Safe Distance.
Granny white knuckles it over to the Ice Cream Section, and I stop close by pretending to debate over which Gallon Jug I wish to purchase.
“Hmmm, shall it be Red, Orange, or…Purple? Yummm, Purple.”
And Gentle Reader, what happened next Haunts me to this Day.
As Granny approaches the Freezer Door, a woman, about 25 years younger with the Exact Same Haircut, and the Exact Same Glasses, moves in beside her.
I shit you not.
At first glance, I assumed she was her Daughter, but Nope.
The Younger Woman brushes past Granny, and Opens the Freezer Door forcing Granny to take a Step Back.
“Oh Shit! That woman just signed her own Death Warrant.”
But Granny does Nothing, absolutely Nothing.
No Karate Chop to the Neck or Cart to the Back of the Knees.
She quietly waits for her Doppleganger to pick out her Bomb Pops, and head on her way.
“This is a Set Up. Where are the Hidden Cameras? Where’s Allen Funt?”
But no one dashed out from behind the random pile of bananas sitting in the middle of the aisle, and no smiling Jackass came running up to the Couple, still looking at Cheese, exclaiming, “You Bitches Just Got Jacked!”
“That really happened. That Shit Really Fucking Happened.”
At this point, I’m Done, Finished, I’ve had Enough of Granny, Younger Granny, and their Marauding Carts, and then it dawns on me.
“Who am I to judge? Wasn’t I a witness to one of the most Infamous, if not the most Infamous, acts ever perpetrated inside the confines of Dirty Kroger?”
You See, Generous Reader, about 20 or so years ago, my friend “Crazy Chris,” and I were standing in the Checkout line when he says-
“I have to Shit.”
“Why you telling me? I’m not interested in your bodily functions.”
Oh, but I would be.
Chris turns back around, and a few seconds later he starts shaking one of the legs of his shorts.
“What the Fuck you doing?”
“Fucking Hell Chris, that’s Fucking Nasty. Goddamned, you’re a Nasty Mother Fucker!”
Sometimes, I miss being 18.