Aprille and Moosified Go Grocery Shopping

It’s 6:45pm on Monday evening. Disgusted by the Christmas decorations already strewn about the car park by reluctant employees, we pull into an empty car park. Distracted by a four wheel drive’s pathetic attempts to navigate a car park roughly the same size as the driver’s ego, I’ve pulled up too close to the left and my OCD demands I try again, but my laziness takes over and wins that internal argument.
“We need taters, precious,” I say, picking up the second-to-last basket when we get inside the store.
“And salad,” Moosified says, drifting over to the rabbit food.
“No,” I groan. “It burns us.”
She ignores me, hovering dangerously close to the baby spinach.
“Get away from that spinach.”
“Well, what do you suggest?”
“Potato salad.”
She fixes with me a stare.
“Potato salad AND roast potato?”
“Yes,” I swing the basket impatiently. “I like taters.”
She rolles her eyes or sighs or something but abandons the spinach. She’s in search of potatoes now.
“Don’t they have big bags of them, instead of individual ones?”
I ignore this, having spotted something far better than potatoes.
“Giant chocolate chip cookies! In buckets!”
She ignores this. I tell her my idea for pizza salad (pizza slices in a bowl) and she ignores this too.
“Ooh, yes, alright,” my fondness for tomatoes has only recently developed despite everyone trying to make me eat them for the past 21 years.
“Cherry tomatoes?”
My face falls.
“Yuck. I don’t like cherry tomatoes.”
She brandishes the punnet at me.
“They’re exactly the same as regular tomatoes! Just smaller.”
“Alright,” I acquiesce, watching the baby tomatoes sail in front of my nose. “I guess.”
“Do you want a carrot too?”
“Pick your favourite one.”
I pour over the single carrots, searching for perfection.
“Imagine you’re picking one for a snow man.”
I hold one up triumphantly and drop it into the basket but then groan when she heads for cucumbers.
“No! Yuck! It’s like water wrapped in fruit skin!”
She ignores me and picks one up anyway. We make our way away from the vegetables and further into the store.
“I want pepper gravy.”
“This aisle.”
She swings towards the gravy packets, leaving me with the basket in the middle of the aisle.
“You’re taking up the whole aisle!” I hiss as an Asian man struggles in between us, muttering apologies.
She responds by throwing a gravy packet directly into my basket. I hoist it away from her.
We’ve visited my favourite aisle (lollies and chocolate) and now our shared basket is so heavy we each have a handle, and now resemble a small wrecking ball/train making our way through the shop. In protest of having to share the basket, I buy a two-litre Pepsi to add some more weight (plus I like Pepsi).
We’re almost to the self-serve Demons *cough* checkouts, when-
“Do you need Easy-Mac?”
I smack my forehead with my free hand.
“Yes! Thank you.”
“I want some too. It smells really yummy when you make it.”
“I don’t know what aisle it’s in.”
We steer our basket train down a random aisle and make acquaintance with a doppelganger of one of our friends. As we pass him, Moosified sideways-looks at me.
“Did that look like-”
“It did.”
“Except shorter.”
“Oh yeah.”
I see the doppelganger (nicknamed Hobbit Cam on account of being almost half the size of our friend) once more before leaving the store. It’s uncanny.
We reach the self-serve checkout demons. The small area is crammed with people and the lady manning the troops is charging around trying to get everyone’s demons working.
“Challenge for you,” Moosified says, leaning in. “Get all of your shopping through without your machine needing assistance.”
These machines, relatively new to the store, are the biggest hypochondriacs ever. You so much as look at the scale:
“Unexpected item in bagging area.”
You even THINK about lifting something off the scale.
“Item removed from bagging area.”
And if it’s just in an awful mood, it’ll break down on you for no reason. I took a deep breath.
“Challenge accepted.”
I get through my groceries without incident, and though there’s some tampering from my opponent (Moosified) when it comes to payment, my check out pulls through. I reciprocate the tampering and almost get her to pay for 13 cucumbers instead of one (side note, cucumbers on the machines used to be spelt cuccumbers; I thought it was funny. Apparently someone came along with a dictionary and fixed it though).
We both tie with that little challenge however, and head off into the sunset.
(Literally, the sun was setting).

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2 comments on “Aprille and Moosified Go Grocery Shopping
  1. Isabelle says:

    you two should get married….. comedy on wheels!!! or should I say in the Supermarket! I dislike shopping, but comedy would help pass the time in there and with selection of items:)

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