“I’m not quite sure I understand why we’re at the grocery,” Peter told June with sparkling green eyes. “We haven’t known each other long, but it’s rather evident you don’t cook.”
“I still have to eat,” she replied primly. “Besides, I’m sure I can pack a picnic for both of us.”
“One that’ll survive the hike?” he teased, and rolled the avocado down the conveyer.
It rolled back.
He glanced down in surprise to find the groceries dancing. The conveyer belt jerked back and forth in short bursts before making a strained noise and continuing forward before hitting the barrier.
“Hmm.” He eyed the payment system keypad.
“Poor cashier looks ready to scream,” June murmured. “I bet she’s been dealing with this all day. Impatient shoppers waiting and hassling her all day.”
“Well, it explains why the queue was so short on this line. Everyone left.”
Beep. Beep. Beep.
She leaned against him, watching the customer in front of them grow steadily more annoyed.
“He probably didn’t leave because he had so much.” It was stating the obvious, but despite the delay, there didn’t seem to be much point in leaving now that they’d unloaded the cart.
Beep. Beep. Phbbbbt. Beep.
She straightened, nearly whacking the top of her skull on his chin. “Did that can of beans just make the machine noise change?”
“Maybe we misheard.” His voice was dubious.
The cash register’s drawer popped open. The cashier sighed and popped it closed with a practiced hip. And again. And again.
In front of the couple, the man waved a container of eggs. “I swear to you, they were all fine, and now?” Frantic cheeping and yellow fluff floated from the cardboard openings of the egg carton. “What is this? I want to see a manager.”
The cashier sighed again, looking exhausted. “Sir, if you could stand over there while the manager is on his way, please?”
“Your bags are broken,” he informed her, but stepped aside to let June and Peter approach.
“Avocado’s escaping.” Her nametag read LILY, and the green object was just out of her reach and bouncing uselessly in the corner of the conveyor. “Hold it up for me instead, please?”
Lily pulled out the mobile scanner and aimed it at June’s hands.
Pew pew!
Avocado splattered with a pop.
“Let me squeeze by,” Peter whispered. He put his hand on the payment keypad. “Has this been happening all day?”
“I don’t even know how that happened.” Lily was nearly in tears. “I’m so sorry.”
“Not to worry,” June managed, wiping fatty fruit from her face and shirt.
Peter swiped his card and eyed the pile of bags that appeared to have holes in the bottom. He balanced the deli meat and bread in his hands instead. “I hope your day gets better, miss.”
They’d just cleared the store when her patience ran out. “Well?”
“Electronic systems are like cranky toddlers,” he replied. “Sometimes they need a nap. This one needed a stern lecture.”
She snickered and flicked her braid over one shoulder, then climbed in the truck and took the picnic supplies from him carefully. “Our life is gloriously weird.”
***
This week’s prompt was from Ben Berwick, about an imminent scream – while I sent green-eyed jealousy over to Becky. Check it – and more! – out over at MOTE, and don’t forget that you can play along as well!
