Why O Why would anyone eat this?
That people right there is
a reason to give thanks. I’ve been stalking this here mutant pumpkin since I
discovered it before Halloween. And, yup, that bastard is pink. The Wizards of
Marketing at my grocery store decided that with October being Breast CancerAwareness month and all, that nothing said “Save the Hooters!” quite like Pink
Pumpkins. These suckers originally were going for 6.99 per. They then proceeded
to sit there like so many white elephants and provided me with one more
obstacle to try and avoid in what is an already perilous journey, what with
kids running amok, truant teens drag-racing in the handicapped carts and your
run-of-the-mill don’t-give-a-shit assholes.
However, I noticed as time
went by, that although the pumpkins did not melt, nor seem to rot and their
numbers were not diminishing, the price was. Three weeks ago, they were down to
3.49. Still, they sat. When first introduced at a whopping 6.99, they were
displayed front and center in the vegetable section; they were the first thing
you saw upon entering. Well, actually, they screamed at you; they were pretty
fucking hard to miss. I wasn’t sure if I was in the grocery store or if I had
wandered into some House of Horrors by accident. I do tend to wool-gather, when
I shouldn’t.
Their demotion moved them
farther back by the potatoes, where they lurked in shame for a while. The
signage was rather curt. Pink Pumpkins. Breast Awareness. 3.49. Great for pies.
Nothing else. The damned things are lumpy looking and warped. Some hybrid from
hell; not sure I would eat a pie from that mingling. I mentioned it to one of
the produce guys, and he said, “I hear ya, I won’t even it those little
“personalized” watermelons.” Yikes.
According to the inside skinny via the produce guy, they just showed up like so many bad nightmares, unasked for in one of the shipments and it was left to the stores to figure out how to push them on the public, after the "Breast Cancer" tie-in flopped. Methinks the man in the gray flannel polo shirt who thought up this doozy is now working at Sav-A-Lot, selling cheap shit made in China. I would have just adverted them as MUTANT DOOR STOPS FOR ZOMBIE HOUSES AS SEEN IN BETTER GUNS & GARDENS and I bet they would have gone like hot cakes.
Yesterday, the death knell:
the pink pumpkins have been moved and demoted once again. JC and I swapped
phones. We did so, so I could get a picture of these prodigies for the blog.
Those monsters were no longer at their accustomed site with the potatoes. I saw
my friend Casey, who works in the veggie section and does stand-up on the side
and asked where they were. We’d already had our fun with these things. Casey
said, “They’re back by the salad stuff, ‘cause when you think salad, you
automatically think pink pumpkins, too.” Couldn’t have said it any better
myself.
1 whole dollar, from 6.99. This is what's left. Poor things; I almost adopted one, but it would probably have killed us in our sleep. I love how one is cut open over there and is wrapped in plastic. A sticker reads, "for display only." No, I want to eat the bastard here; it looks so yummy delish, especially the gray parts. I love my grocery store.
An added bonus: The signage reads: "Pink on the outside. Orange on the inside." Damn tremors.
So, the turkey-lurkey
shopping took me every bit of 4 hours. I have to be really careful and go slow.
Everyone was great, except for the one bitch who saw me, with whackamole and
ran right over the top of me, nearly knocking me into the boxed potatoes. I
never saw her coming and my greatest fear is falling; I lost a friend this
summer when he fell. Without hesitation, I turned and said, “Hey bitch, I have
this cane so I can beat the shit out of people like you.” She saw the blood in
my eye and fled.
At one point, I was
standing in the spice aisle, looking for salt. So were about 10 other people.
It’s like “Night of the Living Dead.” We’re all just standing there. I found
the salt; it’s in my cart, but I’m also thinking, “Is there something else I
should put on my chickens?” Allspice? Poultry Seasoning? Lowry? Burnt Cork? Floor
Sweepings? Everybody’s like statues, staring. Just looking; looking. 2 people
down, this woman picks up her phone and dials a number. I hear, “mumble,
mumble… cloves” and she hangs up. Is there some spice cabal or conspiracy I’m
not privy to? There are 3 guys who simultaneously pick up… something and leave
and… They’re not together! More standing goes on. Nothing is said; just more
looking, no talking. A new man comes and stands and stares at the spices. That’s
it! I got my salt! I might be implicated, so I take off.
Cat food! That’s it! So
off I go. This is ridiculous. She will only eat Friskies Shreds, unless it’s
JC’s chicken, or milk, or my cottage cheese, or not, or cat treats. So I load
up. Cat treats, cat toys, Happy Christmas Cat. Oh wait, that’s next month. Oh
well.
That’s pretty much how it
went; it was a good today, and I am thankful. I’m so thankful for everything
that has brought me here. I’m thankful for all of the richness and wonder and
bright things that have come my way. Every day is a blessing in some way, even
if it seems bad or wrong in some way, there is always a different way to look
at it. I realized something yesterday; these realizations and these wonderful
things weren’t given to me to understand and experience until I became honest
with myself and others.
It’s not always easy to
do, and I’ve caught myself trying to cut corners; shame on me. But I believe as
long as I do that, the gifts I’ve received are mine to keep and share with
everyone I can. If I sound cryptic, oh well. It is what it is. Well, off to see what other mayhem I can stir up. By the way, this is the store that brought us, "chicken paws." I almost had a stroke in the store when I saw this:
On a serious and very important note, a very huge thanks to the folks at www.parkinsonpanda.org for having me as a guest blogger today. I claim them as my very own personal "Parkie-Pedia" for all things Parkinson's Disease related, although I have not yet and my never receive that formal diagnosis, they have helped me tremendously. They have also done me a tremendous honor by asking me to blog a guest post for today. Please visit them. This is so very worthwhile and there are so many people who need help. Thank you again, guys! My love to you all and Happy Turkey-Lurkey!
2 comments:
Happy Thanksgiving to you, Ms. Viola with plumes of fames emanating from her rosined glowing bow. May your grocery cart with the one stuck wheel be ever full.
Seems to me that somewhere in my carbodopa encrusted grey matter you commenting on the fact that I could write. I have been many places and done many things, but as far as I figure it, Never to this day have I had someone on the edge of their seat cheering on an old ratty box of expired pink pumpkins and Hoping they will have a happy ending. "PUT THEM IN THE CART!" I say aloud. "BEFORE IT'S TOO LATE"! Pink Pumpkins.
Then you're surrounded by an obvious troop of Men In Black holding a secret society meeting of some sort huddled around the Lawry's bottles. "GET OUT OF THERE!" This time I'm up and yelling. Penny comes over to check my SMTWTF pill box to make sure I took the last dose.
Naw, Viola, I gotta hand the baton off to you. You're up now. Run with your dreams and get every bit in those blogs of yours. Because you're good. Damn good.
peace
Now that is the highest praise indeed, coming from someone and said so very, very well. I re-lived the experience in those 2 paragraphs. JC did too, for the very first time. Peace and love to you, and thank you again, for everything.
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