How could any being possibly function without it? How could one live life successfully without pushing the glorious metallic carts with wheels that don’t turn and handle bar germs that don’t die, pushing…screeching along row after row stocked with goods to feed the nations. Rows of cookies, rows of soups, rows of frozen dinners, deserts, and veggies. But of all heroic events, mine did not take place any where near the poultry. My story has much more depth and character. My story is a successful heroic quest unfolding…
In front of me, a colorful display- the fluorescent lights beaming a halo above the Rollback $1.99’s and Buy-one-get-one-free’s. The bright colored bottles before me contrast with the plain white shelves. I’m in a hurry, like all the other frantic shoppers zipping, scraping their carts along the speckled tile, past me, past all the displays, ignoring it all. They do not stop…ever…they simply scoop one of each product into their cart, each plunk rattling the cart. But there I am, in the midst of it all, carefully considering my options. So intense, so many factors to weigh out…factors which could potentially compromise my identity as we know it. Fatal. I hear the screeching, the giggling on cell phones, flip flops flapping—almost hissing at me as I study.
It has taken all of me not to peek over my shoulder at those who do not cease to mock me, barking like Chihuahuas to a pack of wild wolves and dogs. They beckon me to come and face them and become distracted from the task at hand. I’m not fooled by their amateur attempts; it actually humors me a bit. I know they are pawns, in the game to make me loose. They must know about my quest….
I shift my weight back and fourth, back and fourth as I reach for my victory. It’s the highest shelf, second to last on the left side. The shoppers gawk at me as I reach up on tiptoes, wrap my fingers around the object, and squeeze my handbag in triumph.
Sauntering off, I proudly boast my feat, the completed hero quest.
To the check-out line I preceded, head held high only to stand behind the other rushing shoppers in the only line running. And it didn’t even matter accept….
“Did you get the stuff?”
“Yes...I’m in line to check out right now…”
“Well…hurry! It looks like it’s about to pour out here! And I have so much
“Have no fear! Just get mom to drive around to the door to get me. Ok?”
“Ok...just make it quick!”
Eventually- I pay, I get my receipt, and through the automatic doors I glide. Everything about the excursion was perfect...except for the pitch black impending doom brewing above the store.
I race to the car and scamper in, handing the light and mostly empty white and black bag with “Thanks for shopping” printed on the side to my sister, scouring at my arm as if it were a grotesque rotting thing.
“It’s for you.”
“No…it’s your deod..”
“No. It’s ok. Don’t thank me. I saw you were running a little low this morning. I thought I’d swing by and get you some.”
“No. It’s deodorant. And it’s yours.”
“Dude… you have no idea.”