Tomato sauce. Spaghetti. Frozen turkey. Normally I'd be content with consuming bucket after bucket of chicken-flavored Cup Noodles, as evidenced by my ever-growing Jenga stack of empty cups with the metal spoon handles sticking out of the side, carefully arranged so that they give the illusion of a spiral staircase that ascends into the heavens. As I grow older, I plan on using this to escape the inevitability of death and ascend a literal stairway to heaven, where I plan to chill with such celebrites as Marilyn Monroe and George Lucas (because he was dead to me the day I heard Jar Jar Binks open that duck bill of his).

A long time ago, in a galaxy far, far away, one creature set back race relations a thousand years. Unfortunately he still has better teeth than I do.

Of course, I have to eat something other than noodles to sustain my health, so I'm taking my diet a step further and consuming noodles with Ragu instead. Much to my dismay, the Excalibur-sized sub that was usually on display was already pulled off of the stone cold shelf by a previous lucky customer. Seriously, this thing was BIG. It's the kind of sub you'd ship to a third-world country and then stare in wonder as the inhabitants are still hungry because the food gets tied up in political issues and is sent away to rot in a warehouse somewhere in the mountains.

I turn away from the aisle and pass up the chocolate cake because that be devil food and I'm havin' none o' that unchristian confections in my house. As I approach the line to the cash register, I wait as the unkempt woman with 7 children clinging to her thigh -no wait...make that 8 children, just now- pulls out a credit card from the unsuspecting businessman ahead of her and proceeds to pay for the 28 bags of Doritos and 3 cartons of Marlboro Lights.

To be honest, I only mentioned Doritos in the previous sentence so I could have an excuse to post this 5 year old Photoshop image that's been sitting on my hard drive for who knows how long now.

I begin to place my groceries on the conveyor belt. Oh how I wish I could hop on the conveyor belt, but alas. I am much too old to get away with such a juvenile antic now. Besides, the treadmill at home is much more fun because you can crank that sucker to speeds that break the sound barrier and then drop small objects onto the belt to watch them fly. I did that once with a ceiling fan and a Chess piece, but it shattered my mother's favorite Christmas ornament and I got in a lot of trouble for that, but you should have seen it. It went crashing into the tree like a damn rocket! It was awesome.

"That will be $229.30," the cashier said. At that moment, I knew something was wrong. It was the tone of her voice...she wanted to get me. I wanted to make sure that I was on to her little game, so I took the businessman's credit card (like hell am I going to pay $229.30 of my own money for food. I have better things to spend it on, like a Nintendo Wii) and point it toward her throat. Then I place it into the card reader's slot and slice it through. The smell of heated plastic permeates the air.

"Sir, your credit card...has been declined."

Fearing an attempt on my life, I deftly reach into my pockets and pull out my wallet. A pair of $100 bills, a $20, and place it on the table. I reach in a second time and pull out $10 in coins.

"Keep the change!" I scream as I arch my arm backward and throw the coins with the fury of a berserker's rage. Without wasting a moment, the cashier leaps up onto the table, pulls the register up and deflects every last coin into their proper positions in the change baskets.

"Don't forget your bags!" I turn back from walking away just in time to see her lifting the groceries off of the conveyor belt and launching them through the air at frightening speed. Thinking quickly, I grab a wayward child by the ankles and swing at the bags with all of my might, batting each and every one of them into my shopping cart. The task completed, I swing the child through the air several times before flipping him onto my back like Cloud from Final Fantasy 7. This distraction almost cost me my life, because as I throw the child away to equip myself with my Jacket of Wind Breaking +2, I hear a faint intake of air. It's the cashier, and she's holding onto my shopping cart.

"THANK YOU AND COME AGAIN!" She bellows as she charges with the cart, intent on running me over. With the grace of a love child between a Ballet instructor and a professional ice skater, I leap into the air and perform a quintuple pirouette with a Tours en l'air (or in terms better understood by the uneducated masses, a really cool and probably impossible jump) onto the shopping cart itself. Using the speed generously provided to me by the cashier, I coast out of the door and ride down the highway, drifting back and forth to dodge incoming traffic.

Ghost riding the shopping cart!

Home. Safe at last. I crawl off of the cart and begin to drag my groceries into the house. One by one, I place them into the refrigerator or pantry, depending on the type of food. My joints aching after a long day, I make my way up the stairs and open the door. As I walk in I see a long, white, twisted piece of material swing over my head. It's pulled tightly around my neck and I begin to choke. I struggle, but a firm hand wraps around my gut and prevents me from escaping! I'm slammed into the wall and I crumple to the floor, no longer containing the energy to fight back. The pain of being choked burns my neck, but I can do nothing. As the room grows dark from a lack of oxygen, a familiar voice utters the last words I'll ever hear.

"You forgot your receipt."

-The End-
Sarm always takes me on a magical journey to a place I'm indifferent about, and when I return there's gum on my shoe.
I hate cashiers like that.
Sarm always knows how to take something long and boring and turn it into an exciting adventure of epic proportions!
Sarm always has the best deals on today's freshest produce and with low, low prices like that, Sarm must be crazy!
This topic is epic.
I agree.