The contention of the rather small woman, her gray hair peeking out from beneath a large hat made from some dead animal with clawed feet, was that the Nabisco graham crackers were two for four-ninety-eight and not two for five dollars. She pointed out that the "Keebler Elf" grahams were two for five dollars. She must have rummaged through the entire display of graham crackers to find the only two boxes without the little pink price label that was usually maniacally applied by some high school kid, who would, after this egregious error in mechanics, now be demoted to a less taxing, a less fulfilling job, forever marked as a slacker.
The girl behind the check-out counter called out, "Price check," and switched on the light bulb above her head. And she again called out, "Price check, register one." There was no unusual movement, which would have perhaps signaled a response to her price check request.
My mind wandered. I now missed the televisions over the check-out lanes tuned into a special CNN for people in line waiting to check out at the discount store. They were removed, just like the little TV's on the gas pumps at the Shell station, which were tuned into ESPN for gas pumpers, and which were long gone, probably shown to have caused numerous explosions, many in and around Baghdad, as the Enquirer once stated, due to static electricity build-up on the TV screens.
An older, large woman bounced over to the register, and the girl behind the check-out counter held up the box of graham crackers, which the older woman took in stride and pushed through several shoppers on her mission to check the price.
Back in October or November, the Globe, not to be confused with the Boston Globe or the Globe and Mail, and which can be picked up only from supermarket check-out racks, announced that Laura Bush was filing for divorce, that W was drinking, and that Laura Bush had walked out because of W's affair with Condoleeza Rice. The newest issue of the Globe says that Laura Bush is separated from the President.
This is old news, recycled and reworked just to sell newspapers. What bothers me more than the First Lady's personal life is that the President is more concerned about Iran than the alien training camp that was found right under our noses and the tofu mutilations and crop circles in soybean fields. And while the President ignores global warming and the dwindling polar ice, the National Oceanic Council is collaborating with the North Shore Adult Pick-Up Ice Hockey League in attempts to save and restore polar ice.
The older woman arrived back on the scene, as a guy with a pencil-thin mustache just above his upper lip wearing a Boston Red Sox cap on his head standing behind me muttered something about Anna Nicole Smith making all the covers next week again. "Cleavage galore, poor woman," he added.
The older woman said, the syllables pouring out like molasses so that the cashier could get it right, "Two for four-ninety-eight."
And the tiny woman looked up at me and said, her bushy eyebrows scrunched down, eyes merely slits in her face, "Two cents is two cents."
Posted by Bill at February 10, 2007 09:08 PMHell, if he ever gets wind of those alien training camps, he's going to start performing orifice examinations. Obviously anyone who has been probed is a loyal American and anyone who isn't is an alien or an alien sympathizer, right?
I'm sure she was right, that the cookies were not worth the additional two cents the store proposed to overcharge. But she gave up several minutes of her infinitely finite life for two cents. So on a per-minute basis, what value does she assign to her life? Sad.
Posted by: Kyle at February 12, 2007 04:07 AMI see much symbolism in the "two cents".
Gee, Bill, I want to know what you eat for breakfast these days...your writing is terrific!
Posted by: Cowtown Pattie at February 12, 2007 09:35 PM