by Mr. W
He glanced at the clerk at the only open register as she tucked her choppy brown hair behind her ears. She turned her head and they briefly made eye contact; her eyes were wide and clear and beautiful. The shopping basket he clutched to his chest contained a toilet plunger, a fiber additive, and a laxative, and he knew he couldn’t go through with this transaction.
“If only the register was staffed by a grizzled sea captain,” he surprised himself by saying out loud.
“I can wear a mask if you like,” the clerk said. “Aisle seven, toward the back, by the batteries.”
He had no choice but to ramble down the aisle until he found the sea captain masks (by the stationery, not the batteries). They were $200 a pop.
That’s how they get you, he thought as he picked a sea captain mask with a particularly jaunty hat and dropped it in the basket.