I saw them a couple of times while I was shopping, but mostly I just heard them shopping. She appeared to be about fifty years old, with few teeth in her mouth and plenty of foul words coming out of it.
He was about the same age, walked with a limp, and whined. He couldn’t decide which frozen dinner he was hungry for, and he was too tired to be walking around a grocery store after working all day. If she had not lost her license, she would be doing the shopping and he would be sitting at home resting his weary bones. The way it should be, her being the woman and food shopping being her job. His words. Not mine.
She bitch slapped him with her tongue. He called her a name. A name I have never been called in my life. And I’ve been called some things.
Some shoppers stared. How could they not? I chose to go about my business of tossing things into a shopping cart and ignoring the couple in need of a relationship intervention. I did not hear any more outbursts while I finished my shopping. Then I left the store, quickly forgetting the unpleasant scene in the frozen food aisle.
Alas, the unruly couple was not done with me. On the way to pushing the cart to my car, I heard a ruckus. As luck would have it, “Punch and Judy” left the store right behind me.
I assume he said something she didn’t like–or maybe she was fed up with his whining. I turned around in time to see her swing the two bags of groceries she was carrying directly at his head. And–she scored. Which made him yelp and drop the bag he was carrying.
That really made her angry because, as quickly became apparent, he was carrying the bag containing the beer. When he dropped that bag, golden geysers shot up and out and every which way.
She screamed profanities and hopped around and around, barely able to contain her rage at this sudden turn of events. He ignored her and tried to consume as much of the spillage as possible. He opened his mouth and took on those geysers, causing her to stop her squealing and stare. But his actions did not shut her up for long.
“You pig! Don’t drink it all!” she screamed.
By this time my groceries were in the trunk of my car and I was ready to leave the scene of perfectly good, cheap beer destruction. (It was probably really cold, too.)
Drinking beer squirting from cans dropped in a grocery store parking lot is one of many things I have never done. I think we’ll keep it that way.