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subwaythru -> RE: back from grocery store here to ans Qs for a short time. (7/27/2010 6:20:35 PM)
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I just survived a jaunt there myself, having found that the cupboard was bare of straws with the little flexible necks, without which I cannot begin to imagine surviving. The woman standing beside me in this department urged me to throw caution to the winds and add little plastic monkeys that hang from the side of one's glass, and produced from her cart an assortment of gaily hued paper umbrellas, the base of which she freely admitted she intended impale with maraschino cherries.
Approaching the checkout lines with well-grounded apprehension, I assessed my options for an escape plan. Everywhere, it seemed, budget-minded matrons sifted through reams of coupons with care and deliberation while their squalling broods ran amok, hunting and gathering their piles of HoHos and Gummy Worms.
It was either them, or the snickering teenagers using some old sot's ID (after, no doubt, promising him a cut) to purchase bottles of a beverage that boasted the name "Lunatique" (with the same amount stuffed awkwardly inside their jackets, and considerable quantities belching unceremoniously from their delighted craws.)
These dismaying alternatives paled into mere trifles compared to the stark staring horror of glimpsing one of my neighbors, from whom it is impossible to escape without at least an hour's dissertation on the state of her stale colon. Savagely, I veered around the nearest aisle and spent more time than I ever imagined would be my lot in life, inspecting and considering fully the charms of a product which straightforwardly called itself "Spagetti-O's".
At last, I spied an innocuous-looking queue. There, a man in front of me held a package of frankfurters, which he quietly confided to me that he was planning to slice into the contents of the can of baked beans he held in his other hand. Deeply mortified by this appalling confession, I hurled some bills at the startled cashier, leapt into my chariot and hightailed it back to the renewed joy of my lonesome lair.
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