Friday, August 06, 2004

At the supermarket I see Byron, my favorite cashier, as I walk in. He's beefy, blonde, and a little stand-offish. David and Abe agree, there's something about him. I grab a red basket and make a bee-line for the medicine aisle and buy two boxes of that expensive purple pill. Maybe if I take enough I will stop the awful acid reflux and single-handedly make the company very profitable.

Afterwards I walk down the beer-cookie-cracker-cheese aisle. The cookies tempt me, since I like to eat comforting things, especially with a burning mid-section. But instead I decide I'll grab ice cream instead. I pick out my favorite Mexican cheese and fat free milk, making sure I get the one with the later expiration date. I grab a box of cereal and in the produce section I spot the former congressman's wife and she says hello and we make small talk as I pick out a couple of bananas.

By the time I get to the register Byron is gone, so the nice Mexican guy drags my groceries over the glass screen and I spend almost as much on purple pills as I do on food. Outside the store a kid is riding the little plastic police car thing, beaming with happiness and it makes the "RRRR, RRRR" sound.

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