Is that chicken in your pocket…?
While meandering down the cereal aisle at Safeway earlier today, I came across a scruffy looking man who suddenly began dancing in front of the Corn Pops, like an English chimney sweeper with a sprained ankle trying to dance a Swedish dance. Although I only saw him from behind, he began to incorporate a kind of “massage the stomach” component into his step — a most peculiar addition that transformed his Swedish dance into something more like a monkey's mating ritual. In my usual apathetic demeanor, I assumed that this man was not in our world and let him be as I continued down the aisle. Of course, I had to get at least one more look at this dancing fool so I glanced over as I passed him and caught a view of his front, only to be utterly shocked: he was shoving a family pack of pork chops down his 2-sizes-too-small pants.
My first reaction was disbelief. The plain mechanics of the situation did not allow for that 12-pack to fit into his pants, and even if he did, he wouldn't be able to walk afterwards. My second reaction was admiration. He had enough balls to walk into one of the busiest supermarkets in the city during rush hour, grab a pack of meat, shove them into his pants while making no effort to be covert about it, and then try to walk out the store. (This is the kind of stuff they should put on reality tv, and not that “snakes in the bathtub with you” crap.)
After wrestling with it for a few more seconds, he simply gave up with the pants and pulled his shirt over the package and headed straight for the entrance — and as far as I could tell, he made it out just fine. Man, I love the city!
My first reaction was disbelief. The plain mechanics of the situation did not allow for that 12-pack to fit into his pants, and even if he did, he wouldn't be able to walk afterwards. My second reaction was admiration. He had enough balls to walk into one of the busiest supermarkets in the city during rush hour, grab a pack of meat, shove them into his pants while making no effort to be covert about it, and then try to walk out the store. (This is the kind of stuff they should put on reality tv, and not that “snakes in the bathtub with you” crap.)
After wrestling with it for a few more seconds, he simply gave up with the pants and pulled his shirt over the package and headed straight for the entrance — and as far as I could tell, he made it out just fine. Man, I love the city!