Post by Sadie on Oct 17, 2009 1:26:36 GMT -5
Wally hated the supermarket.
It was so busy and bustling, with people straining to get their food before a catastrophe happened, like I-have-to-feed-my-family-before-the-world’s-food-supply-suddenly-runs-out, or I-need-to-get-my-screaming-kid-out-of-the-store-fast, or the worst one of all, I’m-in-a-hurry-for-no-good-reason. People who tapped their foot while they waited in line, people who grimaced when there was a disturbance at the register, people who picked the shortest line possible and got angry when it took longer than the others.
Ridiculous.
But Kuki had been in the middle of making dinner and had requested that he go pick up a few things for her, because apparently she was out of an ingredient that was oh-so-important that would make or break their dinner. Or something like that. And she couldn’t leave, because she was already on the next task, rolling some sort of dough for a side dish. He would have offered to help her, but the last incident that had involved Wally’s assistance in the kitchen had involved a fire extinguisher, one police car, and a solemn vow to never speak of the event again.
So instead, he was trudging through the aisles, feeling thoroughly depressed at his current predicament and wondering how fast he could get her cruddy items and get out of the store, and back into the warm reaches of his home. And more importantly, to the dinnertable, since Kuki had a talent for cooking and his stomach had fallen head-over-heels for her elaborate dinners.
After nearly colliding with another cart, pushed by a man who gave him a withering glare as he passed by, Wally straightened and began to rush through the aisles, counting his footsteps like music beats and grabbing items as he whizzed by. No grocery store would keep him for longer than he wanted to be kept, no sir.
It was minutes before he finally got to the register, and then another few minutes before the cashier was finished with the previous customer and then beaming at him, like she didn’t mind that she was an old lady working at a grocery store, and that seeing him had made her entire night. Kind of creepy. But then she was scanning his items smoothly, and he was just happy to leave sooner.
“Shopping for your wife?” she commented smugly, eyeing his items with a critical eye. Baking powder, a few spices, eggs. . . not the manliest of grocery lists. Wally almost regretted not throwing something more impressive in there. Like a steak.
“My girlfriend,” he corrected, just to wipe the smirk off of her face. But she only kept scanning his items, and he watched the price jump up a few dollars at a time, before sighing at Kuki’s ridiculous demands and swiping his card through the scanner. A pin number, and then he was done, throwing the bags into his cart in a mad attempt to escape as quickly as humanely possible. The lady handed him a receipt, which he grabbed away with a rapid “Thanks, have a nice day,” and then he was gone.
By the time he was on the road, he was anxious to get home to Kuki, who would probably say something about how long it had taken him to grab a few simple items and then forgive him almost immediately. And then they would have a nice dinner together, complete with a happy stomach, and then they would settle in to watch the movies that they had rented earlier.
After a seemingly never-ending car ride, filled with a stream of insults at a driver who had cut him off, a mad dash to beat a yellow light, and a quick swerve into the driveway, Wally practically skipped into the house with the bags hooked around his wrists. Before she could even greet him, he had dumped the bags onto the counter with a triumphant, “I’m home!”
“Welcome back.” Her smile was warm like a fire at Christmas, and she put a brief arm around him before digging through the bags in an exploration of their contents.
Inside his head, he was already listening to what he thought her response would be. ‘Oh, Wally, you’re so amazing.’ ‘I can’t believe you did that so quickly.’ ‘Wally, what would I do without you?’
“. . . Where’s my juice?”
Wally hesitated, for he recognized that tone of voice. The innocent inquiry, the one that seemed so harmless at first, but that would eventually unleash the beast. “Uhhh. What juice?”
“My Juicy Juice.” Her wide, soulful eyes turned to him, pleading for an explanation that he didn’t have. “The juice that I drink every day. I asked you to get me some.”
Oh yeah. It was true – she started off every day with a cup of the sweet liquid, cradling the glass in her slender fingers while she greeted him as he slumped into the kitchen. He had never paid much attention to it before, but now he was struck with the memory of it.
She had a tendency to really like things that she enjoyed. This was not good.
“Eh. . . I forgot it.” It was best to be truthful early on, he had learned over the years. She had a nose for lies, and would quickly use them against him. It was not a pleasant experience, so he got the worst over with quickly. At the side of her horrified expression, however, he felt defensive. “I’m sorry, I’ll get some later, I-“
“That’s my favorite juice!” Her hands twisted together in a plea for understanding. As if he was supposed to understand her strange liking for juice. He had given up trying to understand her completely. Nowadays, he just rolled with her strange tendencies.
“You can’t like the juice that much. You’ll live without it for one day.” He tried to pull her into her arms, but she danced out of his reach, indignant about his obvious ignorance of the necessity for her juice. The situation was so absurd that he had to keep from laughing. “Why do you even like it so much? Can’t you just drink another kind of juice?”
She gave him a look, one that screamed that-idea-is-absurd, and he escaped into the living room so that she wouldn’t see him laughing at her. She had the oddest way of seeing things – it was so refreshing and yet so hilarious. He had never met anyone who would get upset over juice, and he had no doubt that he never would meet one other than her.
To pass time until she had finished dinner and completely forgiven him – or so he hoped, but there was a fairly good chance for it – he flipped on the television, flicking through channels without any real interest with what was on any particular one. It was only when a flash of words caught his eyes that he stopped, watching the television with amusement.
It was a commercial for Juicy Juice. The irony was so amusing, and yet he kept watching it. When the last sentence of the commercial was spoken, he burst out laughing. And he couldn’t stop laughing, not for a long time, his laughter shaking his entire frame until he was red and his eyes were filled with tears, and his gut was hit with a spasm of pain with every new wave of laughter. And he just kept laughing.
Finally, Kuki popped her head in, looking concerned. “Wally, are you alright?”
“Y-y-yeah.” Trying to wipe his eyes, he couldn’t speak through the roll of chuckles that were passing through his lips. “I-I. . .” Her brows wrinkled at him, and he just shook his head. “I just had something explained to me, is all. Nevermind.”
Shrugging, she went back into the kitchen, and he let out another amused laugh before resuming his flipping through the channels, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. But now it finally made sense.
The last line of the commercial?
“Juicy Juice. 100 percent juice, for 100 percent kids.”
It was so busy and bustling, with people straining to get their food before a catastrophe happened, like I-have-to-feed-my-family-before-the-world’s-food-supply-suddenly-runs-out, or I-need-to-get-my-screaming-kid-out-of-the-store-fast, or the worst one of all, I’m-in-a-hurry-for-no-good-reason. People who tapped their foot while they waited in line, people who grimaced when there was a disturbance at the register, people who picked the shortest line possible and got angry when it took longer than the others.
Ridiculous.
But Kuki had been in the middle of making dinner and had requested that he go pick up a few things for her, because apparently she was out of an ingredient that was oh-so-important that would make or break their dinner. Or something like that. And she couldn’t leave, because she was already on the next task, rolling some sort of dough for a side dish. He would have offered to help her, but the last incident that had involved Wally’s assistance in the kitchen had involved a fire extinguisher, one police car, and a solemn vow to never speak of the event again.
So instead, he was trudging through the aisles, feeling thoroughly depressed at his current predicament and wondering how fast he could get her cruddy items and get out of the store, and back into the warm reaches of his home. And more importantly, to the dinnertable, since Kuki had a talent for cooking and his stomach had fallen head-over-heels for her elaborate dinners.
After nearly colliding with another cart, pushed by a man who gave him a withering glare as he passed by, Wally straightened and began to rush through the aisles, counting his footsteps like music beats and grabbing items as he whizzed by. No grocery store would keep him for longer than he wanted to be kept, no sir.
It was minutes before he finally got to the register, and then another few minutes before the cashier was finished with the previous customer and then beaming at him, like she didn’t mind that she was an old lady working at a grocery store, and that seeing him had made her entire night. Kind of creepy. But then she was scanning his items smoothly, and he was just happy to leave sooner.
“Shopping for your wife?” she commented smugly, eyeing his items with a critical eye. Baking powder, a few spices, eggs. . . not the manliest of grocery lists. Wally almost regretted not throwing something more impressive in there. Like a steak.
“My girlfriend,” he corrected, just to wipe the smirk off of her face. But she only kept scanning his items, and he watched the price jump up a few dollars at a time, before sighing at Kuki’s ridiculous demands and swiping his card through the scanner. A pin number, and then he was done, throwing the bags into his cart in a mad attempt to escape as quickly as humanely possible. The lady handed him a receipt, which he grabbed away with a rapid “Thanks, have a nice day,” and then he was gone.
By the time he was on the road, he was anxious to get home to Kuki, who would probably say something about how long it had taken him to grab a few simple items and then forgive him almost immediately. And then they would have a nice dinner together, complete with a happy stomach, and then they would settle in to watch the movies that they had rented earlier.
After a seemingly never-ending car ride, filled with a stream of insults at a driver who had cut him off, a mad dash to beat a yellow light, and a quick swerve into the driveway, Wally practically skipped into the house with the bags hooked around his wrists. Before she could even greet him, he had dumped the bags onto the counter with a triumphant, “I’m home!”
“Welcome back.” Her smile was warm like a fire at Christmas, and she put a brief arm around him before digging through the bags in an exploration of their contents.
Inside his head, he was already listening to what he thought her response would be. ‘Oh, Wally, you’re so amazing.’ ‘I can’t believe you did that so quickly.’ ‘Wally, what would I do without you?’
“. . . Where’s my juice?”
Wally hesitated, for he recognized that tone of voice. The innocent inquiry, the one that seemed so harmless at first, but that would eventually unleash the beast. “Uhhh. What juice?”
“My Juicy Juice.” Her wide, soulful eyes turned to him, pleading for an explanation that he didn’t have. “The juice that I drink every day. I asked you to get me some.”
Oh yeah. It was true – she started off every day with a cup of the sweet liquid, cradling the glass in her slender fingers while she greeted him as he slumped into the kitchen. He had never paid much attention to it before, but now he was struck with the memory of it.
She had a tendency to really like things that she enjoyed. This was not good.
“Eh. . . I forgot it.” It was best to be truthful early on, he had learned over the years. She had a nose for lies, and would quickly use them against him. It was not a pleasant experience, so he got the worst over with quickly. At the side of her horrified expression, however, he felt defensive. “I’m sorry, I’ll get some later, I-“
“That’s my favorite juice!” Her hands twisted together in a plea for understanding. As if he was supposed to understand her strange liking for juice. He had given up trying to understand her completely. Nowadays, he just rolled with her strange tendencies.
“You can’t like the juice that much. You’ll live without it for one day.” He tried to pull her into her arms, but she danced out of his reach, indignant about his obvious ignorance of the necessity for her juice. The situation was so absurd that he had to keep from laughing. “Why do you even like it so much? Can’t you just drink another kind of juice?”
She gave him a look, one that screamed that-idea-is-absurd, and he escaped into the living room so that she wouldn’t see him laughing at her. She had the oddest way of seeing things – it was so refreshing and yet so hilarious. He had never met anyone who would get upset over juice, and he had no doubt that he never would meet one other than her.
To pass time until she had finished dinner and completely forgiven him – or so he hoped, but there was a fairly good chance for it – he flipped on the television, flicking through channels without any real interest with what was on any particular one. It was only when a flash of words caught his eyes that he stopped, watching the television with amusement.
It was a commercial for Juicy Juice. The irony was so amusing, and yet he kept watching it. When the last sentence of the commercial was spoken, he burst out laughing. And he couldn’t stop laughing, not for a long time, his laughter shaking his entire frame until he was red and his eyes were filled with tears, and his gut was hit with a spasm of pain with every new wave of laughter. And he just kept laughing.
Finally, Kuki popped her head in, looking concerned. “Wally, are you alright?”
“Y-y-yeah.” Trying to wipe his eyes, he couldn’t speak through the roll of chuckles that were passing through his lips. “I-I. . .” Her brows wrinkled at him, and he just shook his head. “I just had something explained to me, is all. Nevermind.”
Shrugging, she went back into the kitchen, and he let out another amused laugh before resuming his flipping through the channels, shaking his head at the absurdity of it all. But now it finally made sense.
The last line of the commercial?
“Juicy Juice. 100 percent juice, for 100 percent kids.”
