Written on January 24, 2015 at 1:16pm
I made a huge mistake yesterday by shopping at the local supermarket when the forecast called for snow. The place was packed with people struggling to buy enough toilet paper, milk and other staples to last them the next three months.
While I was looking at green onions, one woman stopped me and said, “Please sir. May I have that last tomato? My children are starving. They’re all orphans you know.”
Blinking in confusion I assured her she could have the last tomato, but I did tell her that what she was pointing at was actually a coconut. Grabbing her loot, she turned to the next man and pointed at a turnip and begging him for the “last apple” and going on about her orphaned children.
The next aisle was where they kept the cereal and as it was filled with about 100 people reenacting The Hunger Games. I just kept moving.
The next aisle had reverted to trench warfare, air raid sirens, tins of canned meat being hurled across no man’s land, and somebody screaming for a medic.
Quickly pushing my cart to the dairy aisle, I simply stared in shock and horror. I cannot bear to put down in words what I saw, but what you’re imagining now? It was infinitely worse. In panic, I abandoned my cart and fled for the exit.
Making my way to the parking lot, a woman in front of me and carrying at least 20 plastic bags of groceries was unaware of the rutabaga that had bounced out and rolled to my feet.
The little old lady from the vegetable aisle miraculously appeared plucking at my coat sleeve. “Good sir,” she asked in that wheedling voice. “May I have that orange? I have dozens of orphaned children.”
I picked up the rutabaga, looked her straight in the eye and without hesitation said, “No.”
Now I am home where my family enjoys cabinets that were already filled with goods as well as a well-stocked refrigerator and freezer already filled even before the news of snow. And though we could feast like royalty, just for spite, for lunch today we shall all feast on one well-steamed rutabaga.
Written on January 24, 2016 at 11:57am
Having been trapped inside our house since Friday evening, my son, Jared, and I braved the aftermath of the storm and decided to make the mile long hike to the new Rutter's Convenience Store at the Rt. 15 Exit.
Battling our way through packs of hungry, snow blind coyotes and neighbors crazed with cabin fever, we reached our objective armed only with Jared's 8-dollar pocket knife and our indomitable spirits.
Unfortunately, Rutter's was overrun with people raiding the store for milk and bread as everybody knows the only sustenance that can get you through a blizzard is milk-soaked bread or, barring that, milk-soaked toilet paper.
Jared has left me behind as he does not want to be saddled with a crippled old man who moves at the speed of molasses in January. So here I sit in Rutter's cafe typing out this final missive before making the long, dangerous trek home.
If you hear nothing more of me, I'm coyote kibble.