I had just signed whatever federal warning crap thing they make you sign to get the good, meth-grade allergy pills. The pharmacy lady at the unSuperT was super perky and I was itchy-nosed, red-eyed, muzzy-headed in serious need of some pseudoephedrine sulfate mixed with loratadine. It’s my favorite.
So I’m standing there as Perky talks about all the allergy pills people have been buying, mostly minding my own business, smiling politely the way we Minnesotans do when being yammered at, when a small old lady strolls by with her cart.
“Well you’re nice and tall,” she said as she glided past me.
“Yeah,” I said. “I got lucky.” I didn’t say with any kind of snark. I wasn’t being sarcastic or anything. I was just trying to add some sort of inane thought after “Yeah.” I mean what the hell am I supposed to say?
Then in a tone most often heard cackling “I’ll get you my pretty” by green-faced old witches, this small old lady yells/shouts (from two aisles away), without turning around “YOU’LL SHRINK SOMEDAY!”
I looked at Perky as she handed me my box of pills and raised my eyebrows. She looked at me and shrugged. It was nice to know that it wasn’t just my allergies making her sound like the wicked witch of the Target toothpaste aisle.
Oh, and then as I was leaving, with a trio of Tibbles hanging off my cart, I was stopped by another woman. This one was not old, probably in her fifties. She had long dark hair and black bedazzled clothing, as well as some sort of glittery sticker (or perhaps it was a piercing) stuck to her face.
“Good,” she said emerging from the Office Supply area, and hailing me down. “You have glasses.”
“Yeah,” I said, because again, what do you say to the obvious?
She thrusts a well-loved, mostly-used tube of Maybelline lipstick at me. “This is my lipstick.”
“Okay,” I said.
“Can you read that number?” She points to the bottom of the tube.
“Yeah. It’s zero-one-zero, Ultimate Blush.”
She takes the lipstick from me and hands me two new tubes. “Is either of these that color? I can’t read it. I was looking for a magnifying glass.”
I read the bottoms of the tubes. “It’s this one,” I said, handing her the new tube of Ultimate Blush.
“Thank you so much,” she said. “I just can’t read that small anymore.”
“You’re welcome,” I said and shuffled off toward the check out.
“How come people always talk to you?” Liam asked.
“I dunno,” I said. “Probably because I look like a chump.”
“Yeah,” he said. “That’s probably it.”