Night of the Living Cart

I hate grocery shopping. I especially hate going to the grocery store with three kids in tow (ah, summertime!). The last time I went was a nightmare. Between begging for every little sugary, kitschy item they saw, Rose and Calvin were making up enchanting little games like "let's poke each other in the eye," while Sabrina was judging for accuracy and artistic flair. By the time we got to the checkout line I was denying that I even knew them. "Who are these kids? Somebody should really keep those kids under control. Parents these days! Ha ha . . . "

But eventually our food supply was running low, and gum for dinner didn't sound appealing anymore. So I screwed up my courage and took the kids to the store. Under promises of dire retribution, the kids all behaved quite nicely. Unfortunately, the same could not be said for my shopping cart.

I believe the carts were on strike. They looked unionized to me. And they took umbrage at the fact that I was daring to cross the picket line. I couldn't find one cart that wasn't stuck to another one. No matter how hard I pulled in one direction and Rose pulled from the other, those carts were not budging. Ten hot, sweaty minutes later, I finally found one lonely cart, a scab, and pounced on it. Ha! It's mine!

My triumph was short-lived, however, as I realized there was a reason that cart was left all alone. One of its wheels squeaked. And this wasn't a cute little squeak. This squeak was more like the shrieks of the tortured and dying. And there I was. Stuck with the cart of the living dead because of a stupid cart strike.

I tried to nonchalantly wend my way through the store. But have you ever tried wending with screams of death in your ear? It's not easy, let me tell you. People were running away from us, presumably screaming in terror, although I can't be sure. Their mouths were wide open, but I couldn't hear them over my cart.

By the time I got to the checkout line, I was in quite a mood. The checkout clerk had the temerity to ask me, "How was your shopping experience?" And because I'm rocketing towards crotchety old lady at lightning speed, I said, "Excellent, thank you, EXCEPT FOR THE FACT THAT ALL YOUR CARTS ARE EITHER STUCK TOGETHER OR YELLING DEATH THREATS AT ME LIKE SQUEAKY McSQUEAK HERE!" She looked taken aback, but really. Hadn't she heard me approach?

The clerk commenced scanning my items, and I have never seen groceries fly so fast over that laser beam. Not looking me in the eyes, she asked, "Would you like help out?" I assured her that no, I could squeak my way to my car all by myself, thank you.

Then I went home and lay down. I think my family will just have to get used to gum.