Monday, February 19, 2018

Getting the Grease

     Yes, we all know the adage "The Squeaky Wheel Gets the Grease".  For once, I'll play the role of the Squeaky Wheel.  And I literally mean the Squeaky Wheel. 
     So there I was, Friday afternoon, ready to head home for the President's Day weekend.  However, I needed to make a quick pit stop at Kroger's Market for the essentials which will allow me to stay tucked in at the house all weekend.  I mean all weekend.
     First stop...  the grocery store.  See, here's the rub...  I live in a small college town and if this required ten minute stop is done at the wrong time of day or perhaps on Mom or Dad's Weekend, you might as well have brought a tent to camp out.  Seriously, the lines for a new iPhone launch are shorter,  by a mile, I'm talking all 5,280 feet.
     Coasting through the parking lot doing my recon, the mission looked like a GO.  Spots available, a few carts in the cart corral, and most cars looked local.  Let's do this. 
     Once in the door I grab the first cart I can get my hands on.  Vigorously scrubbing the carts handle with the provided disinfect wipe clearing any hibbie geebies the last shopper may have graciously left, I sneak a peek upward to plan my route.  
     Now as I may have inferred, I needed the essentials.  Dawg and cat food, beer and a pallet of water for the barn fridge.  As I cruise past the organic veggies, I realize that the front left wheel on my shopping companion is teetering. No biggie, I'll only be here for two minutes, max.
        I continue on my predestined route to isle 16, pet food.  Grab the 50 pound bag of dog food for my buds, the 20 pound bag of food for my mouse eradication team, plus six cans of the wet stuff that smells like, well, cat food.  
    Engaging the handle I push.  That 70 plus pounds starts to head immediately left.  Heading right for the bird food and cat litter.  Whoooa...  Hang on partner.  I self correct realizing this cart had just copped a major attitude.  Confident I can out-muscle this contraption, I adjust my heading with a 20 degree crab (aviation term for angle) and headed off to the libation aisle.    
     Halfway to my next check point the front left wheel literally starts to squeak like a 13 year old boy's voice as he talks to his first crush.  I know this, I was that bashful squeaking fella.
     Now, I've got every shoppers attention as I literally push-drag my demonic cart to my beer.  Finally arriving in the brew section (with a major cramp in my left forearm), I hoist two cases of high octane and one pallet of water (strategically positioned a the end cap) into the belly of the beast.
     Lets see, if I do my calculations right, that's another 32 pounds of liquid.  So now, this limping contraption weights about 110 pounds and begins pulling on my left arm like a six year old who sees the Twizzlers on sale.  I mean yanking and squealing doing a fine imitation of Ms. Veruca Salt at he Chocolate Factory! 
     The unpopulated Goal line looms 20 yards past the massive pyramid of bargain soup cans. I can do this!  Push, drag, push drag, yank, squeal, squeak.  Push, drag, push, drag, yank, squeal, squeak.  Almost there.  So what happens next?  That's right!  The cantankerous wheel liberates itself from bondage, straightening the cart and drives me straight into the pyramid, sending tomato, barley, and vegetable soup scurrying across multiple lanes of shopper traffic!  What do I do?  Yank my hat down, bolt for the exit, and head out to the fresh air.  "Clean Up on Aisle 10!"    

1 comment:

  1. Too funny! Was that you? Krogers, State (pothole) Street... ugh. Ha. Pet food; I like Buckley Bros, The Plains, you pull in, they load it up, no squeaky anything. The libations, well, that would be another drive-through...

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