There we were, idly minding our business and about to pay for our groceries, when this fuck-off big marrow comes sailing down the conveyor belt like some bizarre Generation Game prize. And then they were pushing through and starting to bag up. WAIT! Um, hello? We haven't even paid yet! And other such words, spoken by Meg to the women and then the cashier who'd began to ring up their purchases into our total. They dutifully shuffled back behind us with a happy, glazed expression over their faces while we remained with "WTF?" written all over ours. Freaks.
And in other supermarket news, orange lightbulbs explode really loudly when they fall off your pile of groceries, some women have the top shelf at eye level and I don't even want to know what that brown mess was in aisle 24.
‹ 2.11.01
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