Atomictumor

Give it your best shot.

[Edit: I tried to post this at work today. That didn’t work. Here it is, later in the day.]

I had to run over to Kroger on my lunch break today. I needed to get some hors d’oeuvre type food for a meeting tonight. I wanted to get some fancy crackers and cheese.

Now I’ve been to that Kroger on Middlebrook Pike once before to get a rotisserie chicken, so I was vaguely familiar with it. I knew that the beer is on one side of the building, fruit and corn on the cob is on the opposite side and potato salad is in the rear middle. I didn’t need any of those things, as much as I wanted roast chicken, potato salad and beer for lunch. (Man, that sounds good right now.) I just needed fancy crackers and cheese.

So I get in this place and they’re remodeling it. Tile is torn up, there’s a painter painting an office door, little old ladies are wondering around. I have no idea where the fancy crackers and cheese are. After two walks back and forth I found the crackers over by the frozen foods. Mind you that the food goods are divided by batteries, notebooks, panty hose and the frozen dinners. Why is this?

Anyway, I get the fancy crackers in hand. Now, I’m off to find the cheese, but what do they call this stuff? I don’t want just any old velveeta. I want specialty cheese. Sure enough I find a sign hanging from the ceiling over in the produce section that say “SPECIALTY CHEESE“. Woot! I even got the name right. Then I notice that the cooler looks like Goliath got a hold of it. Shelves are laying empty, stacked helter skelter. There’s no specialty cheese to be found. Then I notice two women working at scraping the greasy remains of a deep frier off the floor over by the deli. One of them tells me that, “oh yeah, specialty cheese is by the deli meats.” Indeed, there where the speciaty cheeses. I got a cheese ball, paid and left.

Chicken sounds better to me now.

Ha ha, take that lawnmower!  I totally tricked you into working long enough to mow my yard!

Whos laughing now?

Well, maybe not what the town needs, but what I need is a nice, drunken, long ass game of Monopoly.

Damn, I love me some Monopoly.

Problem is, BJ hated playing it with me, because the used car salesmen in me comes out when I play.

I mean, if you’re not going to try to haggle, why bother buying my other freakin green thing, right?  Jeez.

Point is, Drunk Monopoly.  Yes.  My place.  Who’s in?