Just the Eggs Ma’am
Unfortunately I had forgotten the idiotprufs first rule of waiting: regardless of whatever line, queue, lane, or number taking method being used to make people wait, the line I happen to choose, will come to a screeching, flaming, imploding halt.
Just as it did this day:
Cashier: Did you check the eggs to make sure they’re not broken?
Me: Yes I did.
Cashier: You have to check them individually.
Me: I already…(I look up from my wallet to find her individually checking every egg.)…did that.
Cashier: Men never check the eggs.
Me: I don’t necessarily think that’s true.
Cashier: Yes it is. (She moves on to the second dozen.) What are you going to do with these eggs?
Me: Well, I saw police car in front of the store, and thought it would be cool to get my name in the paper.
Cashier: (stops checking the eggs and stares at me with suspicion.) I can’t sell these eggs to you if you’re going to throw them at a police car.
Me: That was just a joke.
Cashier: So what are going to do with them?
Me: Just normal egg things.
Cashier: Such as?
Me (irritated): I thought I’d put them all in a big glass and drink them raw, like Rocky.
Cashier: Who’s Rocky.
Me: Rocky Balboa.
Cashier: I don’t know him.
Me: From the movie Rocky.
Cashier: Never saw it.
Me: Really, because it’s a pretty famous movie.
Cashier: Let me talk to my manager. (She disappears into the office.)
Me (Under my breath): I’ll bet your manager’s seen Rocky.
I now notice the growing line behind me and realize that I am “that idiot” who screwed up the express lane.
Small child behind me in line: Guess what?
Small child: Eggs come from a chicken’s pooper.
Me: You have an amazing grasp of chicken physiology.
Small child: I know.
Me: It’s your turn to guess what.
Small Child: What?
Me: Chicken butt.
Small Child: (Laughs hysterically and starts repeating chicken butt over and over.)
Child’s Mother: (Glares at me.)
Me: What? You prefer pooper to chicken butt?
Several moments of awkward silence ensued–apart from the small child joyfully repeating the phrase chicken butt–followed by the manager coming out the office to check me out. The manager studied me for a moment and returned to the office for several more awkward silent moments before the cashier returned.
Cashier: The manager says I can sell you the eggs.
I paid for the eggs, left the store, and egged the cashier’s car.
I didn’t really do that…don’t tell the police.