Positive Cynicism – The presumed inner monologues of the people at the grocery store

Aaron R. Davis

:: “Wait, where am I? In front of a grocery store? How did I even get here in the first place? Well, I’m sure no one will mind if I just sit here in my car right in front of the damn store while I try to figure out which planet I’m on right now …”

:: “Oh, snap! One of the spaces in the front opened up! Is there someone behind me? No time! I’ll check just as soon as I slam on the brakes and start backing up! Oh, there was a guy behind me. God, get out of my way, man! Don’t get mad at me! Can’t you see a spot in the front opened up and I had to slam on my brakes to get it and save myself the 40 extra seconds of parking lot walking? Jeez, it’s your fault for even being behind me in the first place!”

:: “Oh my goodness … just look at this place … it’s not just a grocery store, it’s the entryway to heaven … what a paradise … deals and wares as far as the eye can see … goods everywhere I look … I’ve forgotten how to walk in a straight line or at a brisk pace … I’ve lost my sense of direction … what am I looking for? Who cares? Does it even matter? There’s so much to see here! Forget this cart; this is an anchor, holding me back from floating away into the grocery ether and experiencing this wondrous place … OMG, double coupons! That’s, like, not just one coupon, but two! What does it mean?!?”

:: “She’s just a little kid. Surely people will be forgiving of her crying and running, she’s just a child. I mean, gaw, she’s only eight.”

:: “Wait, which pills do I take? Let me bend over and look at all of these pills very, very closely. I know I took some kind of a pill, but I can’t remember which one it was. Perhaps I should see the druggist about this. Oh, I see the pharmacy is closed at 8 p.m. on a Sunday. Goodness, how could that be? Well, it’s okay, I’m only pushing two carts somehow, because my son wanted to let his little girl ride in one of her own, even though she’s obviously 10 or something, but I’m sure no one will mind if I just congest the entire aisle trying to remember what kind of bicarbonate works best on my skinny little body. Maybe it would help if my cart wasn’t completely loaded up with case after case of soda just waiting to unsettle my aging stomach. Why, I remember a time when I was younger and President Taft gave that speech about tonics and bicarb …”

:: “Ha ha, you people are stupid, obviously the best vantage point to see everything at once is the exact center of the aisle. Sure, people can’t get around me on either side, but there are important things to see and it’s important that I see them all at the same time!”

:: “GET OUT OF MY WAY EVERYWHERE I HAVE TO BE IS IMPORTANT AND I DON’T HAVE TIME TO BE POLITE ABOUT THE HURRY I’M IN TO GET MY FROOT LOOPS AND GET BACK HOME TO THE BABY I LEFT ALONE WATCHING TV AND CRYING SHE PROBABLY NEEDS TO BE CHANGED AND MIGHT FIND THE GRENADES I LEFT ON THE COFFEE TABLE IF YOU ALL DON’T GET OUT MY WAY RIGHT NOW!”

:: “Stomp. And stand. And put one foot in front of the other as far as it can go. And stomp. And stand. And push my cart a little bit down the aisle. And put one foot up. And bring it down, baby. Stomp. Hurr hurr, it’s like I’m on the moon. I’m 17 years old. And ready? Stomp!”

:: “Hey, I know that person from non-grocery-buying situations! Let’s dead stop in the middle of the aisle and talk about how we know each other and stuff!”

:: “Ha ha, I’m in college and away from home for the first time, and I’m wearing my pajama pants, and I’m acting like saving money is important, but my daddy will just give me more, so I’m trying really hard to decide between the mild chipotle salsa or the hot chipotle salsa for the party I’m going to have late Thursday night because it’s homecoming weekend and I like to party because I think the only people who live in my apartment building must be students because I AM SELF-INVOLVED.”

:: “I work here, and I enjoy making it hard for everyone to get down the cereal aisle by stocking the shelves every moment of every day. That’s what they get for living in a world where I only make minimum wage!”

:: “What? You’re paying with cash? Who the hell pays with cash anymore? God, I hate you so much, and even though there are three more self-service registers with no one at them, I’m going to just stand here and seethe at you so that you will know what society thinks of people who have the unmitigated gall to pay for goods with cash. Feel my laser eyes. Feel them! Also, I’m only buying cigarettes.”

:: “So what if there’s only room for one person to walk through this hallway and out the door and there are people behind me? That doesn’t mean I’ve got to walk fast or anything. Why should I be polite? Was the world polite to me when I kept getting hurt in relationships? No. And as we know, being hurt in love gives you a free pass to be rude to everyone, because only I know what life’s pain really is.”

:: “That guy in the Honda sure is nice to sit there patiently and wait for me to load all of my groceries in the back of my SUV while my little kids dance all over the place. Just look at my sweeties, running around like idiots in the safest place in the world: a parking lot. I mean, he just bought one thing and obviously wants to get home and out of interacting with anyone, but he just sits there patiently. Oh, well. He probably paid with cash, anyway, so he should have to wait. And now, back to thinking of test patterns.”

:: “Just take a deep breath and remember your blood pressure and try not to snap at anyone intentionally just go home and have some dinner hate world revenge later kill everyone take a nap.”

That last one may have been mine.

Aaron R. Davis lives in a cave at the bottom of the ocean with his eyes shut tight and his fingers in his ears. You can contact him at samuraifrog@yahoo.com.