By BEN R. WILLIAMS
Cast of characters:
ME
MY INNER MONOLOGUE
CUTE CASHIER
Setting: A grocery store in America.
Our hero (ME) approaches the checkout with a full shopping cart. There, he meets CUTE CASHIER.
CUTE CASHIER: Is plastic OK?
ME: Sure, plastic is fine.
MY INNER MONOLOGUE: Man, this cashier is seriously cute. It’s hard to tell how old she is what with the face mask, but I’m pretty sure she’s within spitting distance of my age. Yeah, most definitely. She seems pretty nice, too, all asking me if plastic is OK. Being nice to people is obviously an important component of her job, but still. Of course, I’d never hit on a retail employee while she’s working, since I’m not a low-class punk or a confident person, but who knows what the future might hold? Maybe I’ll bump into her somewhere. I don’t know where, since I barely leave the house these days, but maybe I’ll be picking up take-out and she’ll also be in line. “Hey,” she’ll say, “I recognize you from the grocery store! I thought you were devastatingly handsome!” “Story of my life,” I’ll reply. On second thought, what she’ll probably remember is the fact that I’m buying beer, a tin of sardines, and the last loaf of rye bread. There is nothing attractive about that combination. “Hey,” she’ll say, “I remember you! You were buying beer, sardines, and rye bread. What’s up with that?” “Oh,” I’ll say, “I was out shopping for my grandpa. He’s from the Old Country and he’s a demented person.” Yes, that will explain everything nicely.
CUTE CASHIER: Can I see your ID?
ME: Sure!
MY INNER MONOLOGUE: She’s probably asking for your ID so she can look you up on Facebook or something. Oldest trick in the book.
CUTE CASHIER: Hey, you were born the same year as my mom!
MY INNER MONOLOGUE: …
ME: Haha! How about that!
CUTE CASHIER: Do you need any help getting your groceries to your car?
ME: No thank you.
MY INNER MONOLOGUE: You should drive to the nearest police station and confess to being a terrible man, and then quietly die of old age in the holding cell so you can’t bother the decent people anymore.
THE END
