On Me and Grocery Stores 6

Back by the chicken, my ideas really got flowing.  Boxes and bottles, cartons and cases and cans picked at my brain for some inspiration.  The ketchup.  I could see it there down at the corner just by the rice patties.  It is an intense study of rational that is required to understand who would pair those two on the same shelf, not to mention who would eat rice patties with assiduousness and I paused to give it some thought.  Then I gave up unable to come up with a satisfactory answer.  Ana had made a request a few days back.  The ketchup I had bought did not meet her standards.     “What standards are those?” I asked.

       “Heinz’s standards.  Only the best.”  I had to give her credit where it was due, for her girl her age, she knew quality when she tasted it, but still, we were talking about a vinegar-sugary tomato sauce.  Surely, they all basically tasted alike.  She shook her head decisively and I told myself I would think about it the next time I thought about it.  The memo went the way of the onions, and did not return until the stout plastic bottle appeared before my eyes, which is really the key behind good marketing. 

       All right, all right, I muttered to myself.  It’ll be Heinz then.  I plucked it from the shelf and dropped it in the basket, ignoring the rice patties.  Then I raised my head and paused.  “What the hell had I come to “el super” for anyway?”  And, please, I’m telling you that I don’t mean like “What is “el super” for?” the way I might in about thirty years, but rather because I knew I had a purpose.  The macky-cheese.  That was it.  I had a pack of shells on the other end, so that was taken care of.  All I could do with was a little cream, some more butter and a ton of shredded cheese.  But first, I picked up a sack of carrots just in case.  I love having carrots and love the fact they are in my house.  It makes me feel so healthy.  I just have trouble remembering they are in my fridge and, as a result, trouble remembering to eat them.  They often stay at my place until see they can grow their own vegetation and then I send them off…at night…to some thugs with a big truck that mashes everything. 

       But other than that, I had nothing but cheese on my mind.  Until I got to the dishwasher detergent.  Crap.  Now what?

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