I just wanted some granola and now I’m trapped in “The Maze Runner”
BY ANNABEL MARSHALL — almarshall@ucdavis.edu
I’ve got a list. That’s the way to do it, I think, to have a list. That way you can go in, get what you need and get out. God knows I’ve spent a few hours of my life procrastinating Chem 2C homework in the cereal aisle.
So I’ve got a list. Eggs, bread, bananas. Oat milk to put on my oatmeal to make it extra oaty. One lonely avocado because I want to make guacamole and pretend I’m having a party, but I don’t want to have anyone over because then they’ll eat my guacamole. My roommate wants bagels, so I added that too. Shaving cream.
I start with the oat milk because having non-dairy milk in my basket makes me feel superior to the layman. Layperson. It’s 2021; I’m superior to the layperson. It should be right over…
Oh no, they’ve done it again. They’ve rearranged. Why they do this, I’ve never understood. Wouldn’t it be easier to keep the dinosaur chicken nuggets in a permanent position? What if I were having a dinosaur chicken nugget emergency? Like yesterday? Or the five consecutive days before that. Come to think of it, I was here six hours ago. How did they rearrange everything?
Let’s get this over with. Oat milk. Maybe it’s among the breakfast foods? Pop-Tarts make a mac and cheese flavor? And who knew there were eight different kinds of shredded Parmesan? And since when was beer next to the sushi counter?
I think I’m losing it. It begins to snow. Wait, those are just receipts. They burn to touch. They are made of seaweed. Biodegradable, nice. Good to see companies working toward the common good.
I look up. The ceiling unfolds and I catch a glimpse of Hell. The floor is flooding with non-fat Greek yogurt. The Hispanic foods whisper obscenities. Eggs, bread, bananas. Surely the eggs would be in the refrigerated section, but I’ve been past the dairy four times and the Moth people are rude to me every time.
Oat milk. I see it in the distance. I run. I am sitting in my Safeway shopping cart and wearing a watermelon as a helmet. You are there. It’s nice to see you. Did you do the sociology homework?
We reach the oat milk, but when I reach out, I find a single unwrapped glazed donut. It was just a mirage.
I begin to laugh hysterically and a nearby customer reaches out to me, but their fingers become Barilla Angel Hair Spaghetti, 20% off when you buy five. Do the thumbs count as spaghetti? Because I’m not paying full price for thumbs. Honey, will you Google it? Honey? I think she’s taking an ice bath in the frozen spinach.
“This is what we wanted,” the workers say in unison. They chant in Portuguese. I am beginning to understand Portuguese and also time and space. Eggs, bread, bananas. My list has caught fire. When I let go of it, it turns into a bird. The bird is trapped in the store. The bird is my soul. I cannot find the bagels.
Written by: Annabel Marshall — almarshall@ucdavis.edu
Disclaimer: (This article is humor and/or satire, and its content is purely fictional. The story and the names of “sources” are fictionalized.)
