A Shopping Anecdote

After a long, hectic day of classes, tedious chores, homework, and endless errands, I collasped onto my couch, hoping to rest a moment before I headed to the kitchen to prepare that evening's meal. The soft cushion embraced my tired, strained muscles, and for an instant, I was in perfect bliss without a single worry or care. However, suddenly, my rapture was rudely shattered as I opened my eyes. There on my freshly polished coffee table lay, mockingly, my hastily scratched shopping list of the ingredients I needed for the spaghetti dinner I was supposed to be cooking that very second.

Bolting to my sore feet and scrambling out my front door, I ran the two short blocks to the grocery store as if a psycho murderer was only a few small paces behind me. As I neared the front of the building, I caught a glimpse in the giant display windows of a savage creature, its blonde curly hair wild, insanity blazing in its glowering eyes, and sweat beading on its scarlet forehead. In a heartbeat, though, I realized it was my own reflection as I raced into the store, my hoarse breathing mingling with the wheeze of the electric door.

The gasp of cool air that met me as I pounded through the barely opened door served as a calming effect. By the time I grabbed one of the shiny plastic baskets stacked haphazardly near the entrance and started for the first aisle, my raspy breath and flushed complexion were back to normal and my sanity returned as well. Briskly, I strolled up and down the long, sleek aisles, occasionally glancing at the ridiculously wrinkled and torn mass clenched in my hand. At an earlier time, it had been my shopping list, but now it was merely the bizarre product of my frantic dash. With an experienced shopper's precision, I effortlessly seized my choices off the overstocked shelves and quickly slipped them into the basket resting in my left hand. As I placed the final ingredient in my basket, a sweet wave of relief and satisfaction washed over me.

Finally making my way toward the checkout with my precious cargo, I had to squeeze between two elderly women, their pudgy arms flailing in the air and their white hair jiggling in every direction as they argued shrilly over the last ripe cantaloupe. The cry of careening carts and the rumble of crashing canned goods filled the air. A gentleman at the deli counter in the back was bellowing about his thickly-sliced cheese. In the checkout line in front of me, a bewildered mother was harried by her four wailing young children. All of this frenzied bustle conjured up images of Pterodactyls, volcanos, and the caveman, angry and fearful for his very existence. Thus, in the midst of all this chaos, I shook my head and sighed at the bestial shopper that dwells within us all.