G is for grep, a clever detective

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Why do all the crazy things happen to me at the supermarket? ALONE at the supermarket? It is as if the wackos have an animal instinct to isolate and confront the young, the weak, or the aged. Maybe I brought it upon myself when a stranger offered me a free beverage and I blindly accepted and drank it. After all, that got Alice in trouble many a time.

Today, I went there to pick up some B33R for Meta_Kate. I was confronted by an older lady with a blender. No, she was not carrying the blender or trying to assault anyone with it. It was simply at a fold-out table with beverage materials and little plastic cups. She was selling pre-made mudslides. Just put the mixture and ice in the blender, and you are ready to go. “Try one of these” she said, her outstretched arm holding a little plastic cup–the same little medical-grade clear plastic cup that is usually accompanied by the phrase “Fill this. The bathroom is over there.” or “Here is some water to wash down those meds.” She assured me that even though the premade mix contained all the necessary alcohol, what she made was based on nonalcoholic substances on the table. She also sounded a few sheets to the wind. The table contained a bottle of the alcoholic mix (I even checked the bottle at one point to verify), a little carton of milk/cream, some non-alcoholic flavoring, some ice, and a blender. She pointed to the milk and the flavoring and said that that was what I was drinking. Nonalcoholic, but tastes like the real stuff. She chatted with me for a while, as I was trying to find a conversational escape. Eventually I got away and went to the other end of the aisle. I took a long time, comparing prices and looking at the variety of beers before selecting the specific one I was sent for–just to have a little time to watch this lady confront other customers. Sometimes she said it was made just from what you see on the table, and gestured toward the alcoholic bottle. Sometimes she pointed toward the flavoring. I still do not know, exactly, what I drank. She half a blender of the stuff, poured into little plastic cups–so I never got to see her make any. She could have just been an old, retired, senile lady. She could have been completely sauced. It was hard to tell.

Also, at the same supermarket, I noticed they removed the signs from in front of the video cameras at the entrance. About 6 months ago, they put up some video cameras at the two entrances with televisions hanging from the ceiling so you could see yourself as you were coming in (presumably, you were being recorded somewhere). A few weeks after that, they got banners and signs to dangle from the ceiling–typical supermarket signage, only they decided to hang it in front of the camera, so when you walked in, you could see only your feet poking out from under the sign on the TV. It took them a good many months to remove those signs, which completely defeated the purpose of the cameras. “Yeah, Sarge, we got prints from the crime scene video back from the lab. It looks like that shoplifter that ran off with two tins of Spam and a tin of sardines in mustard wore white Nikes. Forensics were able to pull a shoe-print from the floor that confirms this observation. Be on the lookout for a male, or maybe a female, with white Nike shoes that look to be a size 9.”

Posted in: Dear Diary

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