Etiquette lesson pt I

Vision blurs as I trudge, not walk, up and down each lane searching for a bottle of Coke, cigs, and some NyQuil in this labrynthian supermarket montrosity. One stop shopping has never been more convienent... or has it? I'm looking forward to downing 3 shots of this foul-tasting, green shit, and then sleeping the worry-free, deep sleep of the dead. No ephedrine or hit from the glass today or yesterday so my body isn't accustomed to being awake without help. Disorientation. Vertigo, fatique, and claustrophobia hit me from all angles as I try to stay balanced and keep my eyes straight ahead, as I seemingly float past the miles and miles of packaged, dehydrated, calorie laden CRAP. I try my best to ignore the queer glances and hushed laughing. Slept til 4 and I could have kept sleeping if it wasn't for this annoying sore throat, sniffling, sneezing, coughing, aching head, and inability to rest. The grocery store and it's blinking, red neon sign and magazine racks beckoned me out of my silken cave - as the sirens tempted Ulysses. Funny, I didn't even bother to throw on jeans, just a black t-shirt, my pajama bottoms and flip flops. Haven't shaved for days... or showered... I probably stink. My asshole probably stinks. I've had caustic runs. Yesterday I discovered blood in my stool. My sister said I should get this checked out as it could be something serious. I shrugged and nonchalantly told her it was just hemorroids.

As is usually the case, there are only two registers open and a mile of pissed off customers in each line. I only have two items so I take my place in the “20 items or less” line. I stand and patiently wait, watching the inept store manager scurry about eyeing the growing throng of consumers. After about five minutes he finally gets a clue and opens up another register, directly to my left. I'm one person away from ringing up my merchandise so I tell the guy in front of me that the other register is open now and he was here before I was so he should jump into the other line and ring up his stuff. Before he could even respond some fat fuck appears out of nowhere and impetuously shoves his cart past myself and the gentleman in front of me into the now open register. I guess his business, his time, was more important than anyone else's. I guess common courtesy and manners don't apply to him. I guess he's the god-damned king of the grocery store.

So I say to him, “ What the fuck? You think we've been standing here for our health?”

He ignores me. I take a place behind him fully intent to teach this asshole a lesson in etiquette. I slam my shit down on the sticky conveyor belt. “Hey you FUCK, I'm talking to you.” He continues to ignore me but he's moving quicker and his face is red and his brow is starting to get sweaty. Scared. Obviously he's not accustomed to sick-as-hell, delirious, incensed motherfuckers such as myself adressing his bullshit behavior.

“Listen prick, I'm going to give you three seconds to look at me and acknowledge I'm speaking to you before I dump the contents of this drink all over your coat.” Thoughts of provoking him into taking a swing at me so I can choke him out, here at register three, here at Smith's in front of everyone to see, swirl through my exhausted brain.

The guy in the other line interrupts, playing the peacemaker. “ Look man I appreciate what you're doing here but it's not really a big deal, it's not necess....”

“No, it IS FUCKING necessary. This piece of shit thinks he can butt his FAT ASS in front of us? I've been standing in line for over 5 minutes, you too, and this ASSHOLE just barely walked up. No. Hell no!”

I'd finish the story but I'm seriously too pissed off, and deliriously exhausted right now to continue. Maybe later.