Peaches or Pears

 

Del Monte.  15 ounces.  1.39.

Del Monte.  25 ounces.  2.39.

Thrifty Maid.  15 ounces.  99.

Thrifty Maid.  25 ounces.  1.49.

Delmonte.  25 ounces.  1.39.

Delmonte.  15 ounces.  1.39.

Thrifty Maid.  25 ounces.  1.29.

Hmmm.  It doesn’t look like Thrifty Maid makes 15 ounce cans of pears.

 

Lane stood in a large grocery store, one of many in a large chain.  He liked the space it provided.  Decisions such as these could not be made comfortably in the close confines of a Circle K or Piggly Wiggly.

 

The cans were all kind of dusty.

 

Lane was the only one in this aisle.  To his left and right and rear no people are visible. Lane looks ridiculous.  Taking such a long time to make a decision.

 

A small figure appeared at the end of the aisle, toward the center of the grocery store, to Lane’s right side. 

 

Great.  A child.  Likely to have his or her mother trailing behind with a large shopping cart.  Very disruptive.  Lane was going to have to can this can soon. 

 

As Lane stared at the green cans, his focus was on the small figure.  It hadn’t moved for a while.  Children always move.  Maybe it was just a short person.  A short person looking at juice, deciding on which juice to purchase.  Lane concentrated on the edge of his eye.  It was definitely a person, not just a box or something else inanimate.  But out of the edge of his eye it appeared as though the figure was not looking at the shelves, rather directly at Lane.  Lane thought it might be someone he knew.  But he didn’t know anyone so short.  And he definitely didn’t know any children.  He decided to look up briefly, feigning as though he was looking at the sign at the top of the aisle.  For example, is the cereal also in this aisle?

 

Lane looked up, to the right, then back at the peaches very quickly.  It was not a short person.  It was definitely a child.  The child was definitely a boy and was definitely wearing a suit.  It wasn’t Sunday.  His parents were not in sight.  He still hadn’t moved.  Was he carrying a clipboard? 

 

Lane prepared to take another more serious look, and began to feel slightly embarrassed that the kid would think he was odd for spending the time to make such a serious decision on canned foods in the canned foods aisle.  But it was just a kid.  Who cares what kids think?  Lane quickly decided against looking up as the kid was on the move.  Toward Lane.  Lane thought this is a good thing as he could look at the kid more closely after he passed and his back was facing Lane.  But no dice.  The kid stopped short, almost right next to Lane.  Well, this was it.  No shame in looking up now.

 

He was definitely carrying a clipboard.

 

“How’s it going?”

“You’re ugly.”

 

The sharply dressed kid then wrote something on the clipboard.  It wasn’t much.  Maybe a mark or one word.  One small word.  Keeping his head down, facing the clipboard, the kid walked around Lane and out the left side of the aisle.  Gently tapping the clipboard.

 

Well… what the hell was that about.  Lane turned back towards the cans.  He said ugly.  And that’s what he meant.  Lane knew he wasn’t extremely attractive, but ugly was a little harsh. 

 

He debated the fact that he may be on a hidden camera show, but there was no good place for a camera.    And why set up the gag in the canned food aisle.  And what kind of stunt was it.  It didn’t even seem funny.   The camera couldn’t have been on the kid, as he wasn’t carrying anything suspicious, other than the small clipboard, and wasn’t wearing a hilarious large-looking hat.

 

A cart wheeled around the corner.  Lane quickly made a decision.  He thought that good looking people were more apt to eat peaches.  Perhaps just to prove a point he grabbed 25 ounces of them.  Del Monte.

 

He traced the kids exit route, planning on letting the incident go, although he was a bit curious.  The milk was in that direction, so he could go about his normal business (of buying milk) and would perhaps run into some more information about the kid.  As he walked towards the milk he glanced down the aisles as he passed, looking for people.  No one buys flour. 

 

When he got to the end of the frozen foods aisle he saw the kid.  This time the kid’s back was facing Lane.  The kid was standing motionless, looking down the remainder of the aisle.  Further down, there was a fat guy looking through the glass at frozen food.  The kid began to move.  Lane quietly followed, at a distance, keeping within earshot.  The older man didn’t get a chance to say anything.

 

“You’re fat.”

 

Quickly, the pen went to the clipboard, and the kid was off, around the fat guy, down the aisle, turning the corner out of site at the end.  A hidden camera was definitely out of the question.  The fat guy went back to the glass.  He didn’t seem to find anything unusual about the incident.

 

Lane was bothered now, because the man was definitely fat.  This could very well mean that Lane was ugly.  He wasn’t exactly prepared to confront himself with this information on this day in this grocery store.  Maybe he should find that kid.  Ugly.

 

Lane retraced his steps, continuing toward the milk, searching each aisle.  He didn’t have to go far, as in the next aisle, the kid was walking straight towards him, head down, pen tap.

 

“Hey, Kid.”  The kid looked up.  A blank look.  “Uh.  What are you doing?”  No response.  “With the clipboard.”

 

The kid turned the board around so Lane could take a look at it.  It had some adjectives with counting marks next to it.

Line line line line slash.

 

“So am I ugly?”

“That’s just my opinion.”  He said it matter-of-factly.

“Well how ugly am I?” 

 

The kid kind of shrugged his shoulders.  Lane glanced back down at the clipboard.  There were only two marks next to the word ugly.  Seven next to nervous.

 

At that moment, an average looking woman approached from the opposite end of the aisle.  Trying to gear in on the word, Lane pointed.

 

“Well what about that woman?  Is she ugly?”

“She’s average looking.”

“So I’m uglier than her?”

“I don’t know.”  The kid continued looking at the woman.  “I don’t like her outfit.”

 

Lane tried to think of another question, but the kid quickly turned around the clipboard, then turned himself around and started moving toward the average looking woman. 

 

Lane hadn’t dated in a while.  But he was extremely picky.  Women were attracted to him.  He surely wasn’t so ugly as to avoid attraction.  In fact, the past several women he went out with were all good looking.  In fact, most of them were very good looking.  Good looking women that behaved attractively towards Lane.  They wouldn’t go out with someone who was so ugly everyone else described him as ugly.  Of course, all of them eventually did leave him and started dating better looking men.

 

Lane looked up the aisle to see the kid writing something down and walking around the woman.  The woman looked back at the kid, then down at her shoes for an extended period of time.

 

Lane wandered out of the aisle, to the milk.  There was a very unattractive woman standing there contemplating 1 percent vs. 2 percent.  In her grocery cart, there was nothing except three cans of thrifty maid pears.

 

“Woof.”