10 June 2017
Story #866
R. Linda:
Well, I was in for a new experience. Mam usually does the grocery shopping, but she's got a permanent chill and refuses to go. I have taken up the gauntlet, as the supermarket is on me way home, so it takes nothing for me to stop in.
I had to chalk up Mam's reluctance not to catch a chill, but that she went at the crack of dawn (a new time for her) on what she believed was the off-day that the old men weren't let out of the old men's home to shop on that day or that early. Well, what she discovered to her abject horror was that the older gents were shopping at that hour, on that particular day. The only good that came out of it was that they were ancient specimens of men, and she, being younger and more spry of limb, could outrun them. That be all but one; the one in the motorised wheelchair gave her a good go, he did. Therefore, I thought it was THAT and not any chill.
So, last night, I went shopping. We are 45 minutes away from the nearest market, a place we fondly call Market Bucket, or more often, "the bucket." This be (just to remind you) the self-same place Mam fights off the old geezers of which New Hampshire seems to have a higher population than any state in the nation. But that's neither here nor there, nothing I would have to worry about. No, me worries became more temperature-related. . . or make that cream-filled.
Like I said, I thought Mam had had it with the geezer population, and that was the real reason she didn't want to go there. But no, she said the store was cold, and I didn't believe her. Well, turns out she be right about the cold.
The dairy section is set at subzero temperatures, which makes for a quick run through to get what you want and get out of that aisle. When I first turned the corner, I saw people rushing through like jackrabbits being chased by a den of foxes. I soon found out why as I turned me trolley into the aisle and started up it.
The hairs in me nose froze first, and I think I had icicles on me eyebrows and lashes by the time I reached the milk section. Me teeth were chattering up a snowstorm as I grabbed the milk and ran to the frozen food department, seeking warmth. And it was warmer in the frozen food section than in the dairy aisle. Go figure! But then I remembered I was supposed to pick up some Dubliner Cheese, so I had to brace meself to go back in. I ran me trolley down the aisle safely as there weren't too many shoppers in the dairy aisle for obvious reasons. I couldn't find the freaking cheese, so I saw a bucket worker in his white coat next to the yoghurt, just standing there, so I tooled up to him.
With me teeth chattering, I asked him, "Pardon me, sir, but can ye point me in the direction of the Dubliner Cheese?"
No response. I asked again, clearing me throat and speaking louder and more precisely. Still nothing. I moved around in front of him, and O-M-G, R. Linda, the man, was a frozen block of ice! Icicles were hanging off his nose, his lips were purple, and he was sporting a slight sheen of glazed iciness like he'd been caught in a blizzard on top of Mt. Everest!
I was concerned the man would be frozen and probably dead! You can't have dead people in the dairy section! Me, being me, looked around for help, but no one was foolish enough to be in the ice-cold dairy section but meself. Seeing no help available and being too far from the halfway point of the frozen food section, I looked around to the other end of the aisle, where the bakery was located. I lifted the man up like he was a cardboard cutout of himself and shuffled, holding his icy self to me chest to move him where I knew the bakery section would have HEAT from the ovens, BUT I had to stop for fear of freezer burn through me shirt. I put him down and then decided to drag him the rest of the way. He was heavily encased in all that ice!
I got him into the Bakery when a gum-chewing girl (yeah, real attractive for a bakery worker) asked me what I thought I was doing. I told her over me shoulder as I grunted to drag him closer to the counter opening where I was of a mind to drag him back to where the ovens were, that we had to resuscitate him before he froze to death if he wasn't already.
"Uh, no, not in my section. You are mistaken." She snapped her gum.
"You have a better idea?" I said, determined he was going to the oven no matter what I had to do to fend her gum-chewing self off.
"Nah, but ya can't bring dead people into my bakery!"
"I don't know that he's dead. Why don't you make yourself useful and call 911 while I get him to where he can thaw out?"
"And why don't you . . . "
I won't write what she told me I could do with me frozen "friend," but it wasn't nice and had to do with arseholes. Anyway, THAT got me more inclined to do what I said I would do, and while I fought her off as she beat me about the head and shoulders with a long loaf of French bread, I managed to get him to where several cakes were baking.
"Open those oven doors, and I swear I will throw every cupcake in this bakery at your face!" She sneered, popping her gum.
"I be not going to open the oven door!" I said under me breath as I tried to stand me frozen block of ice upright in front of it.
As I turned toward her, I was hit square in the face with an oversized, gushy pink cupcake. I was offended and shocked all at the same time. How could she? Out of the instinct for preservation, I picked up what was close to me and lobbed a cream-filled eclair at her head. A distinct SPLAT told me I connected with me target.
She had ducked to avoid the mushy treat, which shocked her when it hit. She slowly made herself upright as the cream oozed down her face. She looked mad. I was sure of it by the animal sounds she was making. But then she just stood there, her face crimson, the remnants of eclair stuck in her hair. I couldn't help it, I started laughing. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but as I laughed, her eyes grew wide, her mouth started working and quicker than a baseball player, she picked up a colourful birthday cake and, with stunning accuracy, got me square in the face AGAIN! Now it was her turn to laugh and mine to lose it. I picked up a tray of cream puffs, and wham, a cream puff body slam if ever there was one. I won't bore you with the details of what pastries flew back and forth, but by the time the manager saw us, we had cleaned out the bakery section. There was a crowd of shoppers outside the counter, staring at us with shocked expressions.
We two combatants were shamefaced when we looked at what we had done, but then I remembered me mission of thawing and saving the life of a dairy worker. I spouted what me purpose had been and then pointed behind me. The store manager looked at me like I was lying, and herself (who had lost her gum, which went flying out of her mouth when I hit her with a well-placed cannoli) was sneering at me. The dairy worker was nowhere to be seen. No, he had thawed out and snuck off, knowing full well there would be hell to pay, OR maybe he was the one who went and got the store manager. I don't rightly know. What I do know be the bakery worker be out of a job, and I have a giant bill for pastries I never got to eat.
What was worse, I had to break the news to Mam that I couldn't set foot in the Bucket ever again, and she'd have to brave the wave of old men who find her attractive and do the shopping. I have heard about what a stupid, imbecilic thing I did. Mam tells me 20 times an hour how glad she is that she changed her name so she won't be associated with ME. That I have sullied the name of O'Sullivan, and after a quick run to the Bucket an hour ago, she tells me there is a sign with me face on it warning the bakery workers to beware, Gabriel O'Sullivan, he be not allowed anywhere within 200 feet of the bakery department and 500 feet of the entire store!
"I hope yer happy wit yersel Gabriel, ye be infamous in a grocery store of all places!"
Yeah, well, Mam, better than if me face was plastered as a White House Staffer!
Gabe
Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved
Story #866
R. Linda:
Well, I was in for a new experience. Mam usually does the grocery shopping, but she's got a permanent chill and refuses to go. I have taken up the gauntlet, as the supermarket is on me way home, so it takes nothing for me to stop in.
I had to chalk up Mam's reluctance not to catch a chill, but that she went at the crack of dawn (a new time for her) on what she believed was the off-day that the old men weren't let out of the old men's home to shop on that day or that early. Well, what she discovered to her abject horror was that the older gents were shopping at that hour, on that particular day. The only good that came out of it was that they were ancient specimens of men, and she, being younger and more spry of limb, could outrun them. That be all but one; the one in the motorised wheelchair gave her a good go, he did. Therefore, I thought it was THAT and not any chill.
So, last night, I went shopping. We are 45 minutes away from the nearest market, a place we fondly call Market Bucket, or more often, "the bucket." This be (just to remind you) the self-same place Mam fights off the old geezers of which New Hampshire seems to have a higher population than any state in the nation. But that's neither here nor there, nothing I would have to worry about. No, me worries became more temperature-related. . . or make that cream-filled.
Like I said, I thought Mam had had it with the geezer population, and that was the real reason she didn't want to go there. But no, she said the store was cold, and I didn't believe her. Well, turns out she be right about the cold.
The dairy section is set at subzero temperatures, which makes for a quick run through to get what you want and get out of that aisle. When I first turned the corner, I saw people rushing through like jackrabbits being chased by a den of foxes. I soon found out why as I turned me trolley into the aisle and started up it.
The hairs in me nose froze first, and I think I had icicles on me eyebrows and lashes by the time I reached the milk section. Me teeth were chattering up a snowstorm as I grabbed the milk and ran to the frozen food department, seeking warmth. And it was warmer in the frozen food section than in the dairy aisle. Go figure! But then I remembered I was supposed to pick up some Dubliner Cheese, so I had to brace meself to go back in. I ran me trolley down the aisle safely as there weren't too many shoppers in the dairy aisle for obvious reasons. I couldn't find the freaking cheese, so I saw a bucket worker in his white coat next to the yoghurt, just standing there, so I tooled up to him.
With me teeth chattering, I asked him, "Pardon me, sir, but can ye point me in the direction of the Dubliner Cheese?"
No response. I asked again, clearing me throat and speaking louder and more precisely. Still nothing. I moved around in front of him, and O-M-G, R. Linda, the man, was a frozen block of ice! Icicles were hanging off his nose, his lips were purple, and he was sporting a slight sheen of glazed iciness like he'd been caught in a blizzard on top of Mt. Everest!
I was concerned the man would be frozen and probably dead! You can't have dead people in the dairy section! Me, being me, looked around for help, but no one was foolish enough to be in the ice-cold dairy section but meself. Seeing no help available and being too far from the halfway point of the frozen food section, I looked around to the other end of the aisle, where the bakery was located. I lifted the man up like he was a cardboard cutout of himself and shuffled, holding his icy self to me chest to move him where I knew the bakery section would have HEAT from the ovens, BUT I had to stop for fear of freezer burn through me shirt. I put him down and then decided to drag him the rest of the way. He was heavily encased in all that ice!
I got him into the Bakery when a gum-chewing girl (yeah, real attractive for a bakery worker) asked me what I thought I was doing. I told her over me shoulder as I grunted to drag him closer to the counter opening where I was of a mind to drag him back to where the ovens were, that we had to resuscitate him before he froze to death if he wasn't already.
"Uh, no, not in my section. You are mistaken." She snapped her gum.
"You have a better idea?" I said, determined he was going to the oven no matter what I had to do to fend her gum-chewing self off.
"Nah, but ya can't bring dead people into my bakery!"
"I don't know that he's dead. Why don't you make yourself useful and call 911 while I get him to where he can thaw out?"
"And why don't you . . . "
I won't write what she told me I could do with me frozen "friend," but it wasn't nice and had to do with arseholes. Anyway, THAT got me more inclined to do what I said I would do, and while I fought her off as she beat me about the head and shoulders with a long loaf of French bread, I managed to get him to where several cakes were baking.
"Open those oven doors, and I swear I will throw every cupcake in this bakery at your face!" She sneered, popping her gum.
"I be not going to open the oven door!" I said under me breath as I tried to stand me frozen block of ice upright in front of it.
As I turned toward her, I was hit square in the face with an oversized, gushy pink cupcake. I was offended and shocked all at the same time. How could she? Out of the instinct for preservation, I picked up what was close to me and lobbed a cream-filled eclair at her head. A distinct SPLAT told me I connected with me target.
She had ducked to avoid the mushy treat, which shocked her when it hit. She slowly made herself upright as the cream oozed down her face. She looked mad. I was sure of it by the animal sounds she was making. But then she just stood there, her face crimson, the remnants of eclair stuck in her hair. I couldn't help it, I started laughing. That was the last thing I wanted to do, but as I laughed, her eyes grew wide, her mouth started working and quicker than a baseball player, she picked up a colourful birthday cake and, with stunning accuracy, got me square in the face AGAIN! Now it was her turn to laugh and mine to lose it. I picked up a tray of cream puffs, and wham, a cream puff body slam if ever there was one. I won't bore you with the details of what pastries flew back and forth, but by the time the manager saw us, we had cleaned out the bakery section. There was a crowd of shoppers outside the counter, staring at us with shocked expressions.
We two combatants were shamefaced when we looked at what we had done, but then I remembered me mission of thawing and saving the life of a dairy worker. I spouted what me purpose had been and then pointed behind me. The store manager looked at me like I was lying, and herself (who had lost her gum, which went flying out of her mouth when I hit her with a well-placed cannoli) was sneering at me. The dairy worker was nowhere to be seen. No, he had thawed out and snuck off, knowing full well there would be hell to pay, OR maybe he was the one who went and got the store manager. I don't rightly know. What I do know be the bakery worker be out of a job, and I have a giant bill for pastries I never got to eat.
What was worse, I had to break the news to Mam that I couldn't set foot in the Bucket ever again, and she'd have to brave the wave of old men who find her attractive and do the shopping. I have heard about what a stupid, imbecilic thing I did. Mam tells me 20 times an hour how glad she is that she changed her name so she won't be associated with ME. That I have sullied the name of O'Sullivan, and after a quick run to the Bucket an hour ago, she tells me there is a sign with me face on it warning the bakery workers to beware, Gabriel O'Sullivan, he be not allowed anywhere within 200 feet of the bakery department and 500 feet of the entire store!
"I hope yer happy wit yersel Gabriel, ye be infamous in a grocery store of all places!"
Yeah, well, Mam, better than if me face was plastered as a White House Staffer!
Gabe
Copyright © 2017 All rights reserved
