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Post by fred jones on Mar 5, 2012 16:22:03 GMT -5
 Standing before the refrigerator, Fred glowered menacingly. Not for the first time and certainly not for the last, Aunt Susan had forgotten to go grocery shopping. Before her, looking abandoned and dejected, was a mysterious bowl of something that was unnaturally orange, a droopy piece of celery, and a questionable container of mustard, the last the most curious as neither of the houses two occupants liked mustard. She decided not to look in the freezer above, as she had a vague recollection of opening it yesterday and finding it empty aside from a strange red substance staining the freezer floor, and Fred knew if she looked at it again she’d have a nagging urge to wash said red goo off, which looked sticky and would take much scrubbing. Suffice to say, Fred promptly threw all three items in the rubbish bin, got her bag, and marched straight out the door.
While she had her driver’s license, Fred was without a car, a truck, a motorcycle, or any other conceivable motorized vehicle for that matter, so that left only one option: bipedal locomotion, or to the layman, walking; a daunting task for one who lived on the outskirts of the town, many non-side walked blocks from the center of Forks and the only market in Forks. Striding down the side of the road, Fred decided that the mass takeover of big box stores, ones that cropped up within steps of each other, frantically offering the lowest prices, made possible by the third worlds impoverish peoples, and leading to the death of the independent businesses, could not happen soon enough. She was sure if Wal-Mart or Target came to Forks, she would be there by now.
Reflecting on this previous thought, Fred came to the sudden realization that she becomes a rather poor citizen of the world when she was hungry. Maybe you should grab a burger before you shop, Fred thought to herself. Who knows what might happen if you don’t? Without chips you might start ranting about the amount of taxes spent on elders care. It was going to be a long walk.
tags open
word count 353
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notes we’ve all had those days
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