Bigfoot quit. Urgently need concentrate, describe assorted crock pots for gift catalog. But hit wall.
So tired. Babysitter coming one hour. Hustle guys out for trip to grocery store, think up great plan buy rotisserie chicken. Beeline for spinning chicken case.
Empty. No chicken. Bigfoot at loss. Case not even hot. Wander around. Pick up feta cheese. Put in basket. Is there anything here you guys would eat? Pick up red velvet whoopie pie. Put back. Pour cup complimentary coffee. Add cream. Jack take decaf. Bubs exclaim over cute mini Orangina bottles.
Boys spy case exotic pre-made foods. Mini meatloaf. Asparagus w. lemon slice. Terayaki thing. Honey mustard thing. Mozzarella sticks. Ziti. Coleslaw. Buffalo nibbles. Mom! They have General Tso’s!
Bigfoot and the Deli Woman exchange pleasantries.
BIGFOOT: We’d like five pieces of the General Tso’s
DELI WOMAN: Okay
BIGFOOT: Will the sticker have a list of the ingredients?
DW: Wha? Oh, no
BIGFOOT: Could you show me a list of the ingredients?
DW: What? I guess I could (goes behind curtain for a few seconds.) It’s way in the back. If you really need to know…
MANAGER: (to DW) Can’t you just go get (sotto voce) t h e c a n ?
DW: (to Bigfoot, realizing the secret of the can has been breached) The sauce is just from a can, and then we add some stuff to it
BIGFOOT: What kind of stuff? Like…honey? Or…like…water?
DW: (shrugs) Yeah, probably those things
BIGFOOT: Well. Okay. This is going to sound crazy, but aren’t you sort of required to disclose the ingredients on the food you sell?
DW: No. I don’t think so
BIGFOOT: (blinks. Considers saying why she needs to know the ingredients, but decides it’s not worth the risk of this person misunderstanding and all that irritating jazz)
DW: (reaches little plastic tub of chicken across case)
BIGFOOT: Could you tell me what the things are that you personally add to the can?
DW: Just sesame seeds
BIGFOOT: (valiantly holding back tears) So I can look up what ingredients are usually in General Tso’s, and then add honey and sesame seeds?
Bigfoot so, so tired. Every bit this exchange unsatisfactory. (In retrospect, esp. for Deli Woman!) Go to cashier. Place chicken tub, feta on conveyor belt.
Look up. Aw, man. Cashier look just like Mr. Bean, but young. Last morsel strength drained from Bigfoot as struggle not say, Has anyone ever told you look like Mr. Bean? Mr. Bean Cashier even make over-long, devilish eye contact, curl ruby lips, waggle one eyebrow. This is impossible! Is this a PRANK? Await credit card approval, begin feel more annoyed Mr. Bean Cashier. How dare you look like Mr. Bean, and then do voluntary Mr. Bean facial expressions when I’m already having such a terrible time in your godforsaken store!
On way out, guess Bigfoot make agony face because Jack ask, “Are you okay?” And Bubs ask, “Yeah, did we do something wrong?” When answer No, I’m just so tired, and everything in that store was so disappointing start cry tiny bit. Boys chorus we’re sorry! We’re sorry! Say something like you guys are fantastic. I’m sorry I’m so tired. Didn’t that cashier look like Mr. Bean? Guys noncommittal. Eh, I guess so. WTF?! Like ripping off scab! Cashier 100% young Mr. Bean. Now family abandon Bigfoot? Shit.
Back home, Bigfoot guess 3g carbs per walnut-size lump General Tso. Retrospect, of course realize not need know sauce ingredients at all. Even if sauce 100% high fructose corn syrup, no way accurate how much coat each hunklet. But Deli Woman didn’t know that I didn’t need to know! I could have had a nut allergy! Or a kosher kitchen!
At home, Bubs decide General Tso’s too spicy consume. Apple with peanut butter instead.
Pick up adorable diabetic teen hunk Dream Babysitter. Smell like dryer sheet. Beautiful evening. Babysitter begin frisbee golf game in yard. Cool, green grass. Bigfoot feed dog. Wag wag wag. Say goodbye smiley people. Get in new, clean car. Hybrid, so silent. Very pleasant. Head down street toward water. Beautiful sky. Think fern you and fern canned sauce and fern Mr. Bean.