• Six (6) partially opened boxes of generic Cheerios called “Edible Breakfast Circles.”
  • Three (3) women in their early 70’s, all named Miriam, fighting to the death over the last bottle of Purell.
  • Shelf of Jell-O brand pudding pops with Bill Cosby prominently featured on the packaging.
  • L’Eggs pantyhose. (Sheer, taupe, nude.)
  • Several dead bodies in varying stages of decay, each of which has obviously been tasted/fucked.
  • Sentient tumbleweed that now rules the sushi station with an iron fist.
  • Full case of the processed meat snack “Hey, Maybe It’s Whale.”
  • Snake Plissken wandering around the dairy aisle muttering “Not fucking again” under his breath.
  • Half a red pepper, but not the good half.
  • Shell pasta. (Not the seashell-shaped noodles. Pasta made by the Shell Corporation.)
  • Flamboyantly homosexual, 6’5″, 19-year-old African American employee who keeps berating customers: “Put them toilet papers back, Miss Thing! This disease does not produce poo!” (This is absolutely true. His name is Branton, and even before the pandemic he had the worst attitude I’d ever witnessed in retail. I kinda love him.)
  • One (1) pack of shrimp jerky-flavored Hubba Bubba with one (1) piece missing.
  • A balrog. (Not the balrog. Just a balrog.)
  • Paul “Charmin” Harmon, who calls himself the Human Bathroom Tissue, and whose fetish is precisely what you think it is.
  • Ten (10) packages of an off-brand matzoh called “Jew Crackers.”
  • Pork chop that I distinctly heard singing a sea shanty.
  • Eighteen (18) copies of Guns & Ammo with Megan Markle on the cover.