Blog Objective

What this page is: Me stroking my ego maybe, putting out weird bits of writing I feel compelled to share in an untraditional format. Some pieces fictional, some reviews or reports on things, I enjoy. I’m not sure what else to do with some of this, but enjoy what you’re interested in and ignore the rest. Positive feedback is always welcomed, but when posting negativity, please leave all your contact info and links to your own offerings. Enjoy!  

Funny Thing Happened at the Market

                The scent reappeared. Not that forceful strangulation that choked sense from him at the house, but a fleeting, yet obvious stench of shit poisoned his nostril. He obsessively changed his shoes before leaving, despite having no remnants of dog crap. Glancing down between his legs, while driving the truck, the source of the objectionable odor was obvious. The inside cuff of each pant-leg was covered in dried brown feces.

                “Shit! I’m already at the supermarket!” Bill bellowed inside his white F-150 pick-up as he rolled to a stop, in a space in the back of the lot. ”It doesn’t matter now; you can barely tell. The pants are green and it looks like it could be mud. Nobody is going to get anywhere near me in there.”  He got out of the truck and slammed the door closed. “Is that my shit?” It occurred to Bill that the source of this was unclear. “I pooped into the toilet. There is no way it could have splashed onto my pants? Is there? Maybe it’s from one of the dogs? Unlikely because the pants were hanging in the closet. Oh well if I see anyone they’ll assume I shit my pants and it will make for a funny story.”

                Bill never imagined the store manager would actually ask him to leave the store. It all escalated too fast. Bill’s temper got away from him once again.

                While Bill discriminated the mega market’s selection of bruised honey dew melons for the perfect evening treat, he sensed her approaching with purpose, “Bill Chambers! I knew you were too familiar to be a complete stranger. You shop in my market? Live close by here do you?” The words rattled out of her face without pause, like an automatic weapon firing round after round, “I’m so glad I ran into you here it will save me a call tomorrow.” It was Shawna the woman he had an interview with yesterday. He nailed it and expected to hear a positive call back.

                As Bill turned to face her, he noticed Shawna recoil and squint her nose, scanning the immediate area for the scent’s source. Her gaze halted on Bill’s ankles. Another shopper certainly smelled the same stink, spotted Shawna’s sightline said, “What’d ya do buddy drop an outdoor deuce and get some on ya?”

                Blood rushed into his face as Bill struggled to defend himself, “Who do you think you are to talk like that in front of a female? Have some respect!”

                Laughing he replied, “I have enough respect to not try and have a conversation, with actual shit on my clothes. The laundry detergent is in aisle 4 Shitstain.”

                “There is a good explanation for that.” Now turning toward Shawna, “There is a good explanation for that.”

                “Oh I understand. These things happen.” Her face turned pale and cold, “Anyway I’m very sorry. We’re going another way on the position. We loved you! But we went with another applicant.”

                “You mean you are glad you ran into me so you could crush me in public? Hey don’t let it get you down, but we don’t want pants shitters working for our company. It’s perfectly understandable, I’m sure you’ve never found yourself in an embarrassing situation.” Bill was actually yelling at this point,"Look I’m pretty sure it’s not even my own shit!”

                The annoying shopper chimed in from down the aisle, “Oh that’s comforting.”

                Without thought Bill Hurled the Melon toward the shopper, but rather than hitting the deserving dick-wad, it instead, collided into a floor display of Fruity Pebbles, bursting into a colorful, firework-like explosion of over-ripen melon and high fructose corn syrup drenched poison puffs.  

                The worst part is that when the manager told Bill he must leave, he already had all the items on his list in the carriage. If he hadn’t been scrutinizing for the perfect fruit for the last 15 minutes, this entire encounter would had never occurred.
               
                While driving home from the grocery Bill thought to himself, “No longer will I waste time squandering opportunities, searching for life’s perfect fruit, I’ll just cherish what the world has to offer.”