Fresonke

Trips to the supermarket are getting edgy. The disgusting looks of people approaching me make me feel like a real loser. Unbeknownst to me I was going the wrong direction down the bread aisle. 

Customers were upset that I broke the rules on the store traffic plan. Hey, I can barely look down and see my shoes, let alone the arrows, recently stuck on the floor pointing me in the correct direction. These people looked ready to rumble, in particular women hoarding Metamucil and Red Bull. Being passive aggressive I fought back putting my surgical mask to good use.

I have not gotten used to wearing my disposable mask; it is hot, makes my face sweat, and it is hard to breathe with. The elastic behind my ears pulls them forward making me look a little like Dopey, or is it Stephen Colbert?

Anyhow, back in the crowded bread aisle--an overly amped up shopper sneers at me as I go up the wrong way. In a squeaky, high pitch voice I asked, “where’s the muffin”? After no response, I quietly retort, “the muffin top is above your pants.” She looks around wondering who would make such a statement. I silently passed, my grin hidden by my mask.

Moving onto the next aisle I recognized a neighbor lady, or so I thought. “Hello Mrs. Jacobson”, I said cheerfully to the woman selecting a hair removal product on the bottom shelf of the Health and Beauty Aids aisle. As “Mrs. Jacobson” stood up, I realized it was not she at all; in fact it was a dude wearing a pair of bicycle shorts and an “Art Bennett for Mayor” campaign T-shirt.  Oh oh…

The confrontation I was expecting was short circuited as another customer came up behind us. Using an old ventriloquist trick, I diverted attention by staring at this newcomer and in my best German accent asked, “Ver is der Bratwurst?” 

I was now in the produce department, the perfect site for a humorous ventriloquist. The department was very crowded with even more distractions from shoppers trying to open those thin plastic produce bags. I was drawn to the obvious funny fruits: cantaloupes and bananas. By the kiwi I noticed an attractive young woman, beautiful with long auburn hair, an hourglass figure, and though hot pants are out of style, she sure looked good in them.

I ambled up, throwing my voice, whispering through my mask, “do you like fuzzy fruit?” As I said this, the guy in the “Bennett for Mayor” shirt wandered into our personal space. The woman stepped back, looking at him with delight; “Yes, I love fuzzy fruit,” she said. Slowly, teasingly she slipped down her mask and exposed a chin full of soft stubble, “My name is Peaches.”

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