So while Armando had been fighting with the clerk, “Chuckles” had been picking through and examining the surplus Lean Cuisines that Armando couldn’t afford. He seemed very interested in the steak and peppers. Aside from being curious about someone else’s stuff and not seeming to mind rifling through it in front of them, he seemed on the normal end of the nut case spectrum. He was buying a single bottle of water and four or five blueberries.
After Armando left with his hard fought buck and a third, Chuckles asked the clerk if he could buy some of the Lean Cuisines that he’d by then pitched to another aisle for trash/restock/etc. The clerk said he couldn’t but pointed out that there was an entire grocery store full of food that hadn’t been Armando’s that he could purchase. Chuckles was angered by this. He really wanted to by Armando’s surplus Lean Cuisine… the one with the steak and peppers. And he really didn’t want to walk the 30 feet to get a new one. The clerk finally relented and let him buy it. I figured at that point he was hoping Armando had tainted it.
While the clerk was ringing up the order, Chuckles started pacing up and down the little checkout area. He seemed angry that I was in line behind him and had put my items on the belt thing too. The little plastic separator didn’t seem sufficient. Maybe he was worried my Gatorade was going to squash his blueberry. He kept staring at me.
Finally the clerk told Chuckles that his total was $2.76.
At this point, Chuckles pulled a nasty old sock out of his pocket and began counting change. Mostly of the nickle and dime variety. I guess pacing around and staring at me was a better use of his time than getting his sock money ready. After ten minutes he finally counted out the last coin and handed a stinky wad of currency to the clerk who looked as excited as ever about the whole thing. Finally… it was my turn to make a purchase. Woo-hoo!
In 30 seconds, I’d swiped my cards, paid for the order, and was done. I was the clerk’s best friend. I only brought to the counter that in which I could buy. I didn’t yell at him. I didn’t give him coins from dirty underwear. I was done and he was happy.
But Chuckles was still milling around at the end of the aisle.
He was rifling through more of Armando’s debris and blocking my exit. I grabbed my bagged goods that were positioned near him and he looked up with disdain. Clearly, I was bothering him. The feeling was mutual. With a snail’s pace he began moving towards the door. He dragged a cart along beside him. Of course he needed that cart to carry his bottle of water and four blueberries. When he finally got clear, I politely said “excuse me” and moved past him. I didn’t knock him down or kick him. I promise.
In the car I was fidgeting with the radio and I saw Chuckles coming out of the store and get into a beat up white van. It was the kind of van serial killers like. I didn’t think much of it and headed on my way.
I was, unknowingly, mere moments away from being intercepted by state and county police officers.
Popularity: unranked
Share
