Cameron, Justin and I went to Costco tonight to pick up some photos. They offer the cheapest 5×7 prints I’ve seen. They can offer low-cost photo processing because you also walk out with 48 Pop Tarts and a 3-pack of Pillsbury Grands cinnamon rolls that you didn’t necessarily need. And your kids convince you to buy them a piece of pizza for dinner on the way out.
That’s where things got weird. We sat at the food court area, which is odd in itself as it’s sandwiched between the tire center and the custom cabinetry and blinds stations, and all the tables have umbrellas, though you are clearly indoors, and rain does not seem imminent and sun is certainly not a concern. A large guy, who was wearing only a sleeveless muscle shirt, a large Jersey Shore type silver chain, and sweatpants, sat down at the table next to ours. The air temp outside was 2 degrees. He had no coat in his cart. In his cart was: a man purse, two packages of 300 count 12oz plastic cups, a case of toilet paper, a box of grapefruit fruit cups, a gallon of apple juice, and eight packages of Kashi GoLean Crunch bars.
He sat there with headphones on, looking disheveled, as Cameron and Justin kept talking about how “ripped” he was and speculated about his boxing prowess, and pulled out four prescription bottles, looking over the informational handouts that were included with them. At one point he pulled a man aside who was walking past and said, “Hey buddy,” and proceeded to ask him an unintelligible question about Valium, to which the man replied, “I’m sorry, I don’t know. I’m not a pharmacist.”
Eventually he gathered everything up and walked out the door, into the cold, with no sleeves.
What’s this dude’s back story? It seems like a good exercise in creative writing to invent one for him, but I suspect anything anyone could concoct wouldn’t be half as interesting as the real thing.
© Jennifer Alys Windholz, 2010