Monday, March 31, 2008

The Grocery Caper (A writing prompt exercise)

Screams of laughter greeted me as I made my debut through the kitchen door sporting egg yolks as a new styling mouse. A veil of lettuce cascaded from the top of my head down to the new fashion statement of chocolate syrup graphic t-shirt art and self tanning gone wrong with cooking spray and puffs of flour billowed from my shoes with every step.

“You really got into your grocery shopping, didn’t you, Mom?” mocked my fourteen year old daughter.

“No, Jan, it’s that great new game show – you get points for wearing the most groceries instead of getting them in your cart. What’d you win, Mom, what’d you win?” my twelve year old son Matt begged.

“What do the other contestants look like, honey?” my husband, Ben, joined in the mocking.

Great. Not only do I smell like a garbage can but my sweet, loving family mocks me as I stand in my kitchen dripping groceries. They didn’t even ask if I was okay.

Just as I was about to respond to my family’s comedic chimes, my five year old came into the kitchen and began screaming bloody murder! He thought I was a monster – my own baby boy didn’t even recognize me!

“It’s okay, buddy,” my husband comforted. “It’s mommy, see? It’s mommy?”

As Timmy reluctantly turned to confirm what his daddy was telling him, the tears and screams morphed into giggles of relief for him, more humiliation for me.

“Doesn’t anyone want to know what really happened?” I quivered, about ready to cry myself. “Or would you rather just stand around making fun of me?”

“We’re sorry, Hun,” Ben said. “What happened?”

Jan handed me a roll of paper towels and Matt pulled out the bench at the kitchen table for me to sit on, I began my explanation.

“Well, when I got to the store I was really nervous that the manager wouldn‘t let me in because of what happened last week. I walked in quietly and got a basket and turned to get on with my shopping. I got through the produce section – no manager – so I continued on. I was strolling down the back isle and I was about half way down the isle, looking at the chicken when there were sudden screams coming from both sides of me. I turned around to see what was going on and SMACK! An egg hit me up side my head!”

“What!?” Ben asked understandably shocked. “Someone hit you with an egg?”

“Not just one somebody and not just an egg!” I continued. “As quickly as the first egg hit from one side, another one hit from the other! Then I looked from side to side to see who had thrown the eggs and it was those same two little brats that were there last week!”

“You mean the two that disappeared leaving us to take the blame for all that mess?” Matt asked.

“Those were the ones and I wasn’t about to let them get away with this. They were standing there laughing and I went after them.”

“Megan, you didn’t?” Ben asked, hoping I hadn’t just said what did.

“I sure did! I wasn’t going to take this from these two again. First, they abandon the scene of the crime last week leaving Matt and Timmy to take the blame and now they assaulted me! They weren’t going to get away with it this time!

“Did you catch, ‘em, Mom?” Timmy asked with glee.

I continued my adventure. “As I said, I went after them. But of course, they split up. One went down the baking isle and since he was the closet one, I ran after him. This kid grabbed a can of cooking spray off the shelf as he went by and turned and sprayed it on me! Then he grabbed a sack of flour and tore it open and began showering me with flour. The next thing I knew the other kid was behind me squirting chocolate syrup all over me.”

“How’d you get the lettuce in your hair, Mom?” Jan wanted to know.

“They took my lettuce out of my cart and slapped it on my head after I fell in the flour. I was just sitting in this muck, not believing what was happening when I looked up and saw the manager at the far end of the isle. I think steam was coming out of his ears!”

“He started power walking toward me – I don’t think I’ve ever seen him move that fast!” I laughed. I looked around and my family – I had everyone’s full and undivided attention. I couldn’t remember having everyone’s attention at the same time before. I was kind of enjoying it.

They all looked around at each other and then back at me, “Why did you stop? What happened next?” they all said in unison.

“Oh, sorry, got distracted by all the attention. Well, just as he started toward me the kid that had been in front of me tried to slide by. But I grabbed that little booger and held on as hard as I could; given the baking ingredients I was wearing. He squirmed and kicked and screamed – and so did I, by the way – and just as he was slipping away from me the manager grabbed him and pulled him up by this collar.”

“I started shouting, ‘These are the two kids my boys were telling you about last week, Mr. Johnson. These were the ones who made that mess, not my boys!’ I have never heard anybody apologize more profusely in all my life. He couldn’t stop saying how sorry he was he didn’t believe Matt and Timmy. Then, of all things, he let go of that kid!”

“Let go of him? Did he get away?” Matt asked?

“Well, he started to run off but Mr. Johnson bellowed louder than I had every heard him say anything – ‘Stop right now, young man.’ I imitated as gruff and loud as I could. ‘You get over here right now and apologize to Mrs. Hamilton.’

“’It was self defense! She was chasing me!’ that little brat started hollering! I about came unglued. ‘What?’ I said. ‘This kid and his cohort pelted me with eggs! You better believe I was chasing them. Then they sprayed me with…..”

“Mrs. Hamilton, Mr. Johnson interrupted me, “I owe you and your boys an apology and you don’t have to defend yourself. I know you are not to blame.”

Since I had gotten most of the baking ingredients wiped off while I was telling my story I got up to go shower and change.

“Wait, Mom. Did Mr. Johnson go get those boys’ mom and ban them from the store like he did us? Are Timmy and me allowed back in the store?” Matt asked.

“No, he didn’t go find their mom. And yes, you and Timmy can go back to the store. In fact, we get free ice cream for a year.”

“But why didn’t he go find their mom? That’s not fair,” Matt complained.

“Mr. Johnson didn’t go find their mom because it wasn’t necessary. He was their dad! Ice cream is in the car if anyone wants to go get it!” I hollered back as I headed to the shower.

They sounded like a herd of buffalo scrambling to be the first one out to the car! And the ice cream was particularly refreshing that evening.

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