STALKER IN AISLE SEVEN …
“Mommy,” she said, “Can I have quack-quacks?”
I’m about half a grocery aisle away, but I just have to know what quack-quacks are. So I amble toward them, feigning interest in items along the way, even picking up an item and putting it in my cart, knowing I’ll be putting it back later.
“They’re in a different aisle, honey,” her mom said.
Crap, I thought. Now I’m going to have to “follow” them without looking like some stalker or weird creep. Or give up knowing what quack-quacks are.
But my curiosity and reporter’s instinct just has to know. I turned left at the end of the aisle and become very interested in … pickles. Oh well, there are enough of them that I can spend a few minutes to see if they come down or pass my aisle. I actually end up getting some baby dills. (They’re good on bread with some MiracleWhip® and sharp cheddar cheese. When my kids were young, we used to call them a cheeckle sandwich. Mmmm – cheeckle sandwiches).
A few minutes and no mom with daughter looking for quack-quacks. I hurry out the aisle and turn right this time. I pass a few aisles and spot them at the end of an aisle, looking at boxed items.
Okay, I tell myself. Hurry down the aisle but don’t look creepy. About halfway down I can see clearly enough to recognize my quarry.
Quack-quacks are …
Oh, you probably guessed what they were long before I figured it out.
Quack-quacks are … crackers.
My curiosity sated, I head to the check-out, eager to get home and have a cheeckle sandwich.