Post by nobbinthenob on Apr 28, 2006 17:35:37 GMT
This is getting to be longer than I thought. But I felt that after writing for the last hour, I would drop it in here and see what people thought. It's not a poke at anyone in particular, so don't think it's reality...................
The Supermarket
It was a sunny cloudless day as I drove into the supermarket car park. The sun beat down through the windscreen, blinding me as it reflected off the metal gates at just the right angle to keep the security guards happy, as people nearly made contact with the abandoned trolley park.
The people all around me were either packing their cars or heading for the supermarket, all looking happy, and walking in an almost jaunty manner as if it was the highlight of their lives. I smiled in a particularly bitter way and my lip eventually curled up as I thought of the hell I was about to face.
A space appeared off to my left as a family slowly manoeuvred off in their oversized people carrier, the driver going so slowly that it seemed to me, it would have been quicker to get out and shuttle the goods on foot to their house in the cheaper than cheap advertising bags that the supermarket supplied.
I stopped and stared into the sky and waited for them to actually remove their forty ton truck from the five-thousand acre parking space they had previously occupied for their fun trip. Eventually, after I had made myself several sandwiches and drunk several cups of coffee, they had gone, and the space was mine for the taking. I drove straight into it, ensuring that I performed it with a touch of savoir faire, merely to let others know how able I was at parking.
I joined the throng of happy shoppers as they all converged on the small sliding doors wherein there was a very helpful television. This was to assist you in case you had suddenly forgotten exactly what you looked like and you were feeling insecure about that bit of non-existent fluff that was stuck to your eyebrow.
As I expected, the group of elderly ladies with their personalised feet and knee crushers – more commonly known as a trolley – stopped just inside the doors to have a conversation. Surprisingly, this caused a small hold-up, as people tried to steer a way around this unauthorised meeting. Having negotiated myself around this mishap, bruises and joints permitting, I noticed that; to my right, there were several stacks of baskets for the quick shopper to pick from.
Unfortunately, you were required to be about seven feet tall to reach the top one, as the young lad with the lanky legs entertained himself by piling them higher and higher and then, with a satisfied smirk on his face, strolled off to the side benches to watch people struggling to remove a basket without bringing the pile crashing down.
Luckily, I managed to collar him before he had finished the Empire State Building, and with a sulky look, he offered me one of the baskets from his stack of five.
I began my journey round the aisles. To say that it is a battle of wits and will-power is a bit of an understatement.
As I headed for the vegetables with neither a side glance nor a blink, I was accosted by an old lady with a trolley. Luckily, I foiled her by having my own basket in front of my knees as protection. She asked me where the leeks were. Would it have been prudent to tell her that incontinence was not a problem I suffered from? I feared not so, like a gentleman, I pointed them out to her.
This happy event was just a ruse to stop me from grabbing the last decent bag of potatoes and I had to settle for second best. The ones that looked okay from above but, when turned over, were positively teeming with bruises, eyes, and a yellowy substance I have only seen on the back of my hand as a 10 year old.
The Supermarket
It was a sunny cloudless day as I drove into the supermarket car park. The sun beat down through the windscreen, blinding me as it reflected off the metal gates at just the right angle to keep the security guards happy, as people nearly made contact with the abandoned trolley park.
The people all around me were either packing their cars or heading for the supermarket, all looking happy, and walking in an almost jaunty manner as if it was the highlight of their lives. I smiled in a particularly bitter way and my lip eventually curled up as I thought of the hell I was about to face.
A space appeared off to my left as a family slowly manoeuvred off in their oversized people carrier, the driver going so slowly that it seemed to me, it would have been quicker to get out and shuttle the goods on foot to their house in the cheaper than cheap advertising bags that the supermarket supplied.
I stopped and stared into the sky and waited for them to actually remove their forty ton truck from the five-thousand acre parking space they had previously occupied for their fun trip. Eventually, after I had made myself several sandwiches and drunk several cups of coffee, they had gone, and the space was mine for the taking. I drove straight into it, ensuring that I performed it with a touch of savoir faire, merely to let others know how able I was at parking.
I joined the throng of happy shoppers as they all converged on the small sliding doors wherein there was a very helpful television. This was to assist you in case you had suddenly forgotten exactly what you looked like and you were feeling insecure about that bit of non-existent fluff that was stuck to your eyebrow.
As I expected, the group of elderly ladies with their personalised feet and knee crushers – more commonly known as a trolley – stopped just inside the doors to have a conversation. Surprisingly, this caused a small hold-up, as people tried to steer a way around this unauthorised meeting. Having negotiated myself around this mishap, bruises and joints permitting, I noticed that; to my right, there were several stacks of baskets for the quick shopper to pick from.
Unfortunately, you were required to be about seven feet tall to reach the top one, as the young lad with the lanky legs entertained himself by piling them higher and higher and then, with a satisfied smirk on his face, strolled off to the side benches to watch people struggling to remove a basket without bringing the pile crashing down.
Luckily, I managed to collar him before he had finished the Empire State Building, and with a sulky look, he offered me one of the baskets from his stack of five.
I began my journey round the aisles. To say that it is a battle of wits and will-power is a bit of an understatement.
As I headed for the vegetables with neither a side glance nor a blink, I was accosted by an old lady with a trolley. Luckily, I foiled her by having my own basket in front of my knees as protection. She asked me where the leeks were. Would it have been prudent to tell her that incontinence was not a problem I suffered from? I feared not so, like a gentleman, I pointed them out to her.
This happy event was just a ruse to stop me from grabbing the last decent bag of potatoes and I had to settle for second best. The ones that looked okay from above but, when turned over, were positively teeming with bruises, eyes, and a yellowy substance I have only seen on the back of my hand as a 10 year old.