While I walk I think about the many combinations for spending $9. While I hum along to a bit of Kate Bush, I pass the local pub. If I went in and bought a handle of beer for $4 as it was technically happy hour, I could chance my arm at the pokies. Perhaps if I said a prayer to my good friend Rhonda Byrne she might send me some of her positive energy. I mean, she has so much! Let’s say I win the jackpot which is usually around $800. I’m wearing my lucky knickers. The ones with the waistband that is determined to stay connected no matter how much they frey. That has to be lucky. I will collect my winnings and probably stop and have a drink. It would be rude not to. The barmaid will look at me and ask if I want anything special and I will reply with “Certainly, I’ll have a Long Island Ice Tea, and don’t be afraid of that whiskey bottle!”. I’ve only had some toast and tomato soup for lunch so the Long Island Ice Tea will go straight to my knees. It will be at this point that I’ll get a bit rowdy. I’m hungry. I’ll ask the chef for a plate of chips and he will keep me waiting 20 minutes for the privilege of eating something deep fried. I will decide that now is a good a time as any to start up a conversation with the man slumped on the bar stool beside me. He has beer in his moustache which gets me a little excited. I love a man who uses his beard as storage and I’ll offer to lick it off but then I notice he is drinking Export Gold. I withdraw my advances as I do have standards after all. However at this point, I will be overheard by his wife, who I have most likely mistaken for a more feminine dock worker than her burly husband. She will jump from her seat with an unexpected grace and she will head butt me and break my two front teeth. I will get up from the floor and wipe the blood from my mouth and try to say something witty but the lack of teeth will make any redeeming comments inaudible. I slump home. I may have $763.70 in my pocket but I never bought Mr Awesome any dinner and my dental bill will far exceed my big win.
That scenario doesn’t really weigh out so I keep walking and try to keep myself warm. My pants are falling down while simultaneously giving me a wedgie. A strange combination. I try to deal with my underwear malfunction in between the passing cars. There are times not be in the spotlight but this is one of them. I finally reach the neon glow of the supermarket and I am grateful for the warmth. I check my pockets and double check I haven't lost any small coins while fidgeting with my iPod. Nope, still good. $9... let’s get ready to party!
As I try to decide what to get, I pass the cosmetics aisle and I spot some skin coloured stockings. What if I bought the tights and then went outside and put them on my head and came back in and held the store up? That way, I will be able to get dinner too. I will take a hostage and demand some goods from the deli. I am partial to those mini peppers filled with cream cheese and I haven’t had a good antipasto platter in ages. “Fill that fucking large tub!” I will yell.
I will make my getaway with my plastic bag filed with groceries. Given the circumstances, they have not charged me for the plastic bag. I start to run and then my knickers start to slip and slow me down. “Think, woman, think!” I’ll stop and try put the stockings on, my logic being that the waistband of the tights will keep my pants up. It is at this point that I will find myself in the spotlight of a police car which will arrest me. The deli food will be confiscated and Mr Awesome will remain hungry despite my efforts. I will be charged for robbery and indecent exposure . I will fight the latter. However my visa will be revoked and i will back in Ireland quicker than you can say Diddley Dee Potatoes.
I regain my focus in the supermarket and decide on the third option for the evening being bread, cheese and gingernut biscuits. It seems the safest option. I put my gloves back on and wander home. As I walk I wonder what exciting things lie ahead of me. You never know!
Mrs A xxx
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