Lost in The Supermarket

“Where is- HEY!”

It was hard not to hear me plow down the isle. Squeeak, squeeeak, squeeeak. The back wheel gave away my position. Fucking dead weight, but whatever. It wasn’t like I was doing this to get away.

The foots steps pounded behind me. She was surprisingly nibble for a woman in heels. This would be over before I know it, if I don’t pick up the pace. I turned and the squeaky wheel almost clipped a Doritos display.

squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak, squeak-squeak. The wheels screamed louder.

“HEY! That’s my cart! Get back here!”

I was well aware of the situation. As a matter of fact I had been scoping her cart out since I got to the frozen food section. It wasn’t like she was super cute or special by any means. She just was the only woman who was caring her purse on her shoulder.

It wasn’t any specifically any one thing that brought me to this point. This week was extremely normal, but that was the problem. Nothing happened. Every minute of every hour this week was the same. But I have no one to blame but myself. Nothing happened because I didn’t make anything happen and it drove me insane. So when I saw that girl leave her cart to talk on the phone, I just reacted.

It wasn’t stealing because she hasn’t paid for anything. It was just an annoying thing that no one does. A social norm that NEVER gets broken.

I got tired and decided to park next to the Chex Parity mix, classic comfort food.

She slowed down once she saw me stop.

“What the hell is matter with you! That’s my stuff! Why did you take my stuff? Are you mental or something?”

Her look interrogated me. Seconds passed by and I thought about what to say to where she might be able to understand.

I smirked, looked her dead in the eyes, and spoke,

“I have no idea.”

The Long Walk Over

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Thump, thump.

Fuck. There’s that familiar feeling that takes over. All it takes is a quick glance at an hour glass figure welded to a cute face. Next thing I know, my mind takes off like the Indy 500.

Mind: She thinks I’m too short. I’m not dressed well enough. Her elbows are too pointy. She knows I went to the emergency room once because I jammed a bead in my nose. She’s probably a bitch or has huge salami nipples that are bigger than my face. Like I’ll probably put in all this work to find out that one of her boobs is lopsided. I’ll take off her shirt to find out that she saved up for this boob job only to have complications during the second implant. Her doctor felt so bad that he helped her with a nice stuffing cover up to make her less insecure about not being a full figured woman. Hence why she’s wearing a sweater. Real crafty Biggy Smalls, but I’m on to you. So don’t bother because this is how it will play out: I go over there spark her interest, we chat for a while only to find out she’s really interesting. We have a connection about how Joe Strummer was our hero back in high school. We go back to my place to listen to the Clash records and I find out her dirty little secret. Be Honest, do I really want to put myself though that?

I get up and start walking over. My mind picks up the pace.

Mind: What the fuck Darby, do you not know how to listen? So you’re really gonna go over there, what are you gonna say? Are you going to go with the typical, “Hi I’m Darby.” That’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard. She gets that all the fucking time by richer guys with a Maserati. Not an ’05 Honda civic that doesn’t even have automatic windows. Like she probably doesn’t even know how to work a window crank. She’s gonna get in on the first date and be all like, “I’m hot. Get me out of here! I need a REAL man that can afford REAL windows.” So lets just save the trouble huh? Just turn around now. Alright fuck it! I didn’t want to have to tell you this, but she’s got a boyfriend. That’s why she’s buying two cups of coffee. It’s the only logical reason because there’s no way she can consume that much coffee on her own. Darby turn the fuck around now! You’re just going to look stupid front of all these people. You come in here all the time, they’re all going to see you look stupid and call everyone they know. From there everyone in the entire Dallas area will know that you’re a fucking loser. You’ll get laughed at when you walk down the street and into Target. They’ll be like “There goes my name is Darby guy. You gonna ask for my number too faggot.”

I stop in front of her.

Mind: Bro pretend that you were gonna get something. It’s not worth it. There are million girls out there. For all you know she’s got a dick. Probably bigger than yours, not like it’s hard, micro penis boy. You know you’re packing a mini Tootsie Roll down there. Just TURN THE FUCK AROUND NOW!!! IT”S NOT FUCKING WORTH IT! YOU’RE JUST GOING TO GET REJECTED! She knows that you’ve jerked off into tube socks. Or that you’ve watched a live show of a women fucking a horse and became strangely aroused. SHE’S NOT LOOKING FOR ANY OF THIS SHIT! YOU BETTER NOT SAY A FUCKING WORD!

“Hey, how’s it going. I’m Darby.”

We chit chat for a while about how we both have just moved here and exchange numbers. I walk out of the coffee shop.

Mind: See, I told you she’d like you.