I Dunno, It Just Happened
It happened again last night, and even though it wasn’t in the best of taste, it was funny.
After dinner, my wife, the lovely and ever tolerant, Dawn, said that we needed to go grocery shopping. I’m all in favor of that because, without it, I’d wither away to a mere shadow of myself. My doctors have suggested that my shadow could use a little whittling down.
Our new favorite store is the Meijer Megastore. 90,000 square feet of everything you would ever need to survive an Earth/Asteroid collision. Even their parking lot is up to date with a row of about twenty slots for you to plug in your electric car to recharge while you cruise up and down the aisles. Of course, if you really do have an electric car you are probably sitting at home with a dead battery when it is 5° above zero.
But I digress.
Grocery shopping at Meijer’s, or anywhere, makes me thirsty. I don’t know why, but it does. Unlike most grocery stores, Meijer doesn’t have those little last-second, impulse buying, beverage coolers by each checkout aisle. They have plenty of those cheap and tasteless tabloid magazines, but no cold bottles of Coke, Dr. Pepper, or water. I was as parched as a trout in the Sahara. I looked around for an oasis, a leaking faucet, anything. Then I spotted The Pretzel Shoppe.
The Pretzel Shoppe is one of those adjunct businesses that rent space at the front of those mega-stores. Wal-Mart has a Subway, an Optometrist, and even a Bank up front by the exits. Meijer has a haircutting place and The Pretzel Shoppe.
I had found my oasis.
“I’ll be right back. I gotta get something to drink.”
Things were slow at The Pretzel Shoppe. I was the only customer. The young gal, in the embarrassingly ugly Pretzel Shoppe uniform, behind the counter seemed grateful for some company. She took my order for “No pretzel, just a cold drink,” and handed me a paper cup. I handed her a five dollar bill. I got myself a Diet Coke and chugged it down in record time.
My Brain/Mouth Disconnect happened when Miss Pretzel handed me my change. I expected her to say something like, “Thank you and please come again.” I did not expect her to say, “Thank you and have a ‘Pretzel Day’.”
“Excuse me?” I must have misheard her.
“Thank you and have a Pretzel Day.”
I’ve never seen anyone blush that quickly or so completely before. She turned so red I thought she was a thermometer. She giggled and I took that as my cue to leave. She wouldn’t have giggled unless she knew what I, innocently, meant.
When I turned to leave I saw the “Meijer Greeter” standing only 10 feet away, and laughing out loud. Between us was Dawn with our cartful of groceries.
She just shook her head and said, “You shouldn’t be allowed out.”
She may be right and I may never eat another pretzel.