9 February 2012

Free Bag From the Grocery Store

Went to the grocery store after work today. Sonja and I needed some food. Onions, spuds, eggs, sour cream, parsley, bread and a dead chicken. Sonja wishes I would not come home with dead chickens. They have a mom.

I looked at the people in the store as I made my way around. Did not recognize anybody. That is what happens when you move from one big town to another.

There are always lots of old people in the store. Old people who would rather be spending their money on booze and prescriptions like me but if you do not eat you do not shit and if you do not shit you die. Just like the rest of the old people I had my plastic basket. Fuck the buggy.

At the till the checkout girl asked me, "You want any bags?" I get asked if I want bags everywhere I fucking go now. Like I am supposed to walk around with bags every fucking place. I looked at the checkout girl like I was thinking real hard but having a hard time figuring out how many bags I would need. Finally I told her "Give me two." She bagged my shit into three bags. I got a free one. Jimmy Motherfucking Pattison and Glen Motherfucking Clark are going to be pissed if they hear about that. Assholes. Bags used to free.    

Later Sonja asked me, "Why is there a fucking corpse in the bottom of the fridge?" as my headless frozen chicken lay there thawing. I see some stores will sell you your dead chicken with the head still attached. Sonja is not going to like that one bit staring at her from the bottom of the fridge like it is just taking a nap. 

"You know I love me some corpse on Thursdays, baby," I answered her. "It is not like I eat corpse every night like we both did in the old days before the motherfucking hippies altered your diet with their anti-corpse propaganda."

"Why don't you keep your corpse in your fucking beer fridge?"

"Because it is a beer fridge, not a corpse fridge. I don't think you would like me keeping my beer in a corpse fridge."

Good thing I cooked up veggie pasta and garlic bread for dinner. Wine too. Sonja has forgot all about poor little bottom of the fridge dead chicken now.

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