There comes a day in every adult’s life when he or she must make the choice to risk their very safety in order to use their carefully-clipped penny saving coupons. Today was that day for me.
I left work dreading the task looming before me. As if I did not already abhor grocery shopping anyway, the Cashwise in my city wickedly decided to advertise dollar saving deals on Doritos and other life-sustaining foodstuffs. I planned my assignment with the skills of a Navy SEALS ninja.
I seemed to have forgotten my riot shield, as I was not expecting masses of people stocking up for the approaching zombie apocolpyse, and so I hunkered down into a defensive pose as I laid my re-usable grocery bags in the seat of my cart, all the while clutching my purse, preparing to use it as a battering weapon if necessary. I looked down, refusing to make eye contact with other people crazy enough to try to get their two-for-one Oreos, afraid my own insanity would be reflected in their eyes.
I made a pitstop at the coupon bin, keeping my cart between myself and the elderly lady frantically searching for the free Malt-O-Meal coupon. I found what I needed, and proceeded to bound through the fruit aisle at a self-preserving speed, stopping only long enough to pick up a seedless watermelon marked down to $4.98. As I did so I couldn’t help snickering to myself that I finally had a melon in my hand that was bigger than my own “melons”.
I repeatedly flipped through my handful of coupons, intent on not missing an item and having to risk backtracking through the money-grubbing throng. I debated on whether to get Hershey caramel chocolate coffee creamer or French Vanilla before madly tossing both on top of my free bananas and scotching outta there before I was rammed by the overweight man in the sweat pants.
I maneuvered my growing-heavy cart down the frozen foods aisle, ignoring the call of the new Cool Whip Frosting, and hastily grabbed two delicious looking tubs of ice cream, only to realize when I got around the corner that the tubs I had the coupon for were on the endcap. I threw my hands up before throwing the unwanted tubs in the place of the two I grabbed. (Shhh, you know you’ve done it too.) I zoomed past the candybar aisle, resisting temptation, before coming to a screeching halt in the shortest checkout line that sported a not-retarded looking checkout dude.
Sadly, in my extreme speed, I failed to notice the elderly couple in front of me who had been unable to locate said sale Malt-O-Meal. I looked on, pretending to smile politely when all I really wanted to do was shove grampa and gramma into their carts and push them off to the old people’s home. At last, their Malt-O-Meal was found, only to find out it wasn’t what they were looking for. Finally, I was cashed out and bagged up, only to realize when I got loaded into my truck that my endorphins were pumping, and I zoomed home in record time for absolutely no reason.