Celery Stalks

It was a sunny morning and the wind blew in off the prairie after last night’s sudden snow squall. Jerry was never a complex man and today he felt less complex than usual. And that was asking very little from the universe. Jerry ‘s head throbbed from the last few Mickey’s he downed while watching the last of the returns on his grandiose 48 inch television he purchased with his stimulus check. He’d gone on a real shopping spree a week ago, which included the television, firearms, ammunition, three cases of beer and a shit ton of vegetables he bought at the Cash-N-Carry down the lane. Despite his cache of firearms and propensity for drinking way too much, he wasn’t into killing animals. He preferred vegetables and plenty of them. He was a lithe mean propaganda machine. Almost like having a puppy, it was also a convenient conduit to starting a conversation with woman.

He stumbled to the refrigerator, looking to extinguish the furry beasts that had taken residence in the back of his throat. A tooth brush sat on the kitchen counter, and he forgot putting it there. He ignored it and chugged down a grape soda he found hidden in the back of his refrigerator. It did not make him feel all that much better. The grape aftertaste was better than whatever was there before.

Jerry scanned the kitchen for something he could make for breakfast. He needed something to settle this stomach of his. He looked at himself in the mirror and noticed he was starting to develop an impressive stomach much like his Schmidt’s drinking uncle. For a lingering second, he thought about this. He was proud to be much like his uncle and his honorable belly.

Of course he had no food in his refrigerator. Impulsively, he grabbed his keys off the counter and circled back one again so he could look out the window with his binoculars. He had slept half the morning away and could not see into any of the neighbor’s upstairs window. The glare of the sun reflected the light right back at him. The yard signs in his neighbor’s yard bothered him plenty. He thought to himself.

“My life matters” On that note he started in on another soda pop, this time it was not grape. He was a little better now and would save the grape soda for severe cases.

“My life does matter” he repeated to himself. Jerry had no pets but he wished that he had a dog. What Jerry had was a series of pet peeves. Bulldozing across the spectrum stereotypes, Jerry was an environmentalist who took it personally when people littered or soiled the appearance of the local community. Shopping carts scattered about town and he felt it made the town feel tacky. Bernie, the manager at the local supermarket usually slipped him a case of beer or on good days he gave him good old fashioned cash. It worked well for both as it was good for business allowing customers to push their groceries home. It happened to be lucky for Jerry, as he has been bringing the carts back to the store for the last five years. He only started getting paid in the last two years after Bernie heard him sneaking carts back into the lot, after the store was closed.

After a bit a bit of a struggle, he popped his truck into gear and slowly drove the snow blown back roads to the Cash-N-Carry. If there were anybody on the roads today he would make for a peculiar sight. Trailing directly behind his truck was a half dozen shopping cars tethered and rolling in usison. He guided his truck to a near crawl and the truck came to a complete stop in the parking lot. The sky had darkened and snow swirled in suddenly lit streetlights. He walked around to the back of the truck and unhooked the carts from the tether of the truck. He then glided them into the proper place in the parking lot.

He walked into the store and almost immediately the smell of fresh basted chicken made his stomach do a summersault. He fought back the urge to get sick right there in the store. Unexpectedly, he felt as if the worst was over. He put a twelve pack in the front of his cart, grabbed same gatorade , aspirin, oreos and a giant bag of Tim’s brand Potato chips. He lingered in the fruit aisle, taking a longer time than usual to pick out the apples he wanted. He still loved his apples. He noticed a rather pretty girl doing much the same with the corn on the cob. There was something about this girl he found intriguing as well as vaguely familiar. She glanced up at and him and accidently caught him staring back at her.

“Gravenstein are the best” she said with a smile. She put her corn gently into her shopping bag and headed toward the checkout stand.

Much to his dismay, the checkout lines were longer than he he anticipated. Waiting in line was something Jerry did not do well. He always enjoyed watching what people purchased at the supermarket. It was a brief window into that person’s life. The girl behind the corn on the cob seemed a little bit out his league. She loaded sparkling water, red wines, fancy cheeses and of course the aforementioned corn on the cob. He then noticed she had purchased Vietnamese cock Sauce. His mind raced for a second, rationalizing if they had a conversation they would at least have something in common.

When she went to pay, the cashier asked her for the number tied to her grocery store account. Every big store chain had a loyalty program such as this and this was common practice.

“Wow this weather is getting a little bit crazy.” She said as she grabbed the wallet out of her purse.

“971-765-5432” she added quietly while nervously scanning the room.

The cashier rang up Jerry’s groceries quietly and with little fanfare. “Hey Jerry I see you snuck some carts back into the parking lot.”

“Don’t mention it.”

“It is very nice what you do.”

“Please don’t mention it.”

Jerry gingerly walked back to his truck with two bags in one hand and the 12 pack in the other. Shopping carts were futile in this weather. He put the beer in the cargo area and the two bags in the cab next to him. He reached into his pocket for his keys and a slip of paper and golf pencil came out as well. It contained the number from the girl behind the corn. A moment of remorse trickled through him as he felt kind of bad about writing down her number. Then again, what crime is it if he didn’t actually call her.

He revved the truck to see how the tires were holding onto the suddenly icy road. It was slippier than he anticipated. If he was paying attention, he could have figured this. The harbingers being the sunny morning and the these snow squalls that seemed to have parked themselves over the area. He suspected his hangover over, as he was really looking forward to getting home and cracking open a beer.

He inched his way down Luzerne street and right before the turn-off to Argonne he saw a figure progressing slowly, heading in the same direction. It was a tight bundled person pushing a shopping cart in direction the where he was headed. At times, it made his blood boil to see people walking off with the grocery carts. It was rude and it was self centered. He slowed down even more so he did not veer off and hit the person walking along down the middle of the road. He inched around the slow moving person, applied the brakes and came to a complete stop approximately twenty yards past. He waited for the person and the shopping cart to catch up. In retrospect, he was surprised she stopped at all. A female voice yelled out distant garble that was deadened by a howling wind.

“Hey there are you in need of any help?”

“What does it look like, these carts do not come with snow tires.”

“No ma’am they do not. How far are you from home?”

“I am four blocks up the road on the left.” She thought for a moment considering her current situation. She calculated the absurdity, as well as her somewhat steadfast belief that people were generally nice during a weather event. This was especially true of a snowstorm.

“Are you a serial killer?” She asked as Jerry approached her shopping cart.

“No you have nothing to worry about.”

Jerry wordlessly reached into to back of the truck and pulled out the same thick rope and hook that he used to bring the shopping carts back to the store. He quickly hooked one end to the back of the truck and one to the shopping cart the woman was navigating.

“Hop In -I will give you a ride home.”

She was ecstatic to be out of the snow, sprinkled with a tad of trepidation. She easily stepped into the cab and the windows fogged immediately making the atmosphere a little closer than she was comfortable. She remembered her groceries were still in the shopping cart. They should be fine.

As soon as she lowered the hood to her parka, Jerry recognized her as the pretty girl standing behind the corn.

Jerry put the truck in gear and they had a rather friendly easy conversation in the five minutes they shared cab space.

” The apartments up here on the left. My building is 1500.”, which was useless information given the street signs were now snow covered.

He stopped the truck and looked over to her. “See I am no serial killer. My name is Jerry. “

“My name is Alice. You seem like a very nice young man” she said through a crooked smile.

“This is a very small town, I am surprised I have not seen you around.” He said as he pretended to fidget with the radio. He thought to himself, it has been a good long time since he had a real conversation with a member of the opposite sex. It made him feel good.

“I am new here, I am just taking it all in.” she answered back in a removed, content far away voice. She opened the truck door, retrieved the groceries and jotted down a note which she set in the snow that had gathered in the front of the shopping cart.

The snow seemed to have stopped as stars escaped and twinkled from behind the clouds. She poked her head back in the cab and gave Jerry a wink as subtle as a single snowflake falling into the street light.

“You have my number, give me a call some time. “

Jerry watched her open the door to her place just to make sure she made it home all right. It was the right thing to do.

And then he thought, “How does she know I have her number?”