Monday, May 16, 2005

Grocery Performance Art

I consider myself to have comic stylings. My wife considers me to be a narcissistic loudmouth.

You be the judge:

I'm in the grocery. I am buying lots of soda and beer, because it's on sale now and we are having a party next week for the Magellan baseball team.

I have in the cart 12 12-packs of soda (buy one get one free), and 7 12-packs of beer. I also have 5 big bags of chips. Finally, I picked up an onion, a big purple one, for the dinner I am cooking tomorrow.

Cashier (female, maybe 19, skinny and quiet): "You havin' a party?"

Me (loudly enough so people turn and look): "The onion! That's what gave it away! I KNEW I shouldn't have bought the onion. But now the word is out: A party. Now EVERYBODY knows! Darned stupid onion."


Me (going back to my "inside voice"): "I was just kidding. Yes, we're having a party for my son's baseball team."


Manager, walking up quickly: "Is there a problem?"

Me: "We're having a party."

Manager (looks at cashier, looks at me, looks at the sodas and beer and chips, and onion): "Well, can you keep it down?"

Me: "The party isn't until next week. Can you hear it already?"

Manager: "....hunhihhunhhh" (or something like that); walks back to cubby hole.

Cashier keeps head down, finishes ringing up, whispers "You saved $30.06 on your VIC card."

I go home, well satisfied that I have introduced unexpected surrealism into the lives of two people who clearly needed it.

Now, my wife and sons will not go shopping with me. This is MOST unfortunate. Because if there were actual other people to play along, the possibilities for grocery performance art are nearly limitless. But they won't go.

(By the way, on the Magellan team page, of the five pix, the one on the right, with the bat, is my son Brian. Check the hair).


Anonymous said...

That made me laugh.

Anonymous said...

My two cents:

You're funny. Your wife is a saint - but maybe not as funny.

Anonymous said...

We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more,
From Mississippi's winding stream and from New England's shore;
We leave our plows and workshops, our wives and children dear,
With hearts too full for utterance, with but a silent tear;
We dare not look behind us, but steadfastly before,
We are coming, Father Abraham, three hundred thousand more.

We are coming, coming our union to restore,
We are coming, Father Abraham, with three hundred thousand more.

Anonymous said...


-Robi from UGA

Anonymous said...

Someone commented to me, "He must be a middle child. (Always crying out for attention)"

Anonymous said...

Mungo, that's hilarious.

Anonymous said...

This guy really likes himself