I just got back from the store after purchasing some Hurricane-proof supplies. I was attempting to avoid blogs about really mundane things, but I think I am going to consider it a challenge to myself to keep it interesting. I have three primary situational influences, let me know if you pick up on any of them–Comment!
By the time I got to the Safeway it looked the place had been looted. Nonperishable foods had been wiped clean, only a few stray, smooshed, disheveled loaves of bread remained. I took what I could scavenge–the cheapest, least smooshed bread with a semi-low calorie count. Hey, a hurricane is no excuse to let yourself go! Satisfied, I moved through the store avoiding eye contact with the other customers. It was every man for himself, you see. Except the girls who only bought tequila and margarita mix–clearly they know the true meaning of hurricane.
With only bread in hand, I searched for the next item on my life-or-death scavenger hunt. The peanut butter aisles were bare. I panicked. I couldn’t live off bread alone–and that’s the Gospel truth (no literally, it says that in the Bible)!
Is there anything else that doesn’t require refrigeration, that goes on bread, and actually tastes good? I paused, thinking. Nope.
A man approached. I eagerly scanned him up and down–searching, searching… Yes, there it was, a name tag. “Excuse me, do you have any peanut butter in the back?” He looked back at me, his eyes filled with sadness and pity. “No miss, all we had is out on the shelves.” It couldn’t be. I sulked my way to the jelly side. In case you don’t know this about me, I don’t eat fruit and I definitely don’t eat jellies. The only thing that could have me considering such an impossible notion is a true state of emergency.
Back to my sulking… Head hung low with the feeling of defeat, I searched for a jelly that didn’t make me feel like I wanted to hurl. I failed. Miserable and defeated, I began to turn away when alas, something struck my eye. Could it be? Hidden in the darkness, far behind a gag-inducing jar of apricot preserves was a lone container of Safeway brand, reduced-fat creamy peanut butter. Huzzah! I was saved. No slow, agonizing death by starvation would befall me this weekend.
But no, this wasn’t enough. I lurked down the aisle, eyes flashing from one side to the other scouring its contents for something, anything. And then, like a silver tower, it appeared before me–canned tuna. I rushed to it, trying to remain as inconspicuous as possible should some other self-serving homosapien attempt to cut in on my prey. These were my spoils and I would not be sharing them. I grabbed a stack, hastily throwing them into my hand cart. From behind me, the sound of rapidly approaching footsteps. I spin to meet the face of the one who approaches.
I look into the deep green eyes of this freckle-faced girl who dared approach me, and I nod. The rest is for her. I’ve had my fill.
The water aisle was a barren wasteland. Not a single bottle lingered on the shelves or in the refrigerated cabinets. I could hear the whisper of sweet death breathing down my neck. The search for food would all be in vain if I couldn’t find water. But my mind, driven to mad genius by necessity took to the next aisle–vitamin water. I threw a couple in my hand cart.
The check out lines were a madhouse. Patrons, appearing more like zombies than customers, practically snarled at one another. I smiled to myself as I blew past them and into the Express Line. I counted my items–only 14–I grabbed the newest People, with utter ridiculous interest in Kim Kardashian’s wedding. Now I was ready.
To Irene, the most terrifying thing with a ridiculous name.
“Every disaster screams for humor.”