poptart cart

July 27th, 2014 - Groceries

AUTHOR: americanised

July 27th, 2014 - Groceries

It seemed that Arthur’s terrible luck did not apply solely to his eyebrows, but also to his rather impressive knack at always picking the shopping carts with a wonky third wheel. He did his best to guide it a straight line, but the cart had a mind of its own and kept twisting this way and that.

    “I should just choose the carts from now on,” teased Alfred, who walked beside him.

    Arthur grunted noncommittally in response. “Whatever. We’ll make this quick, since we don’t need much anyway. What was first on the list?”

    Alfred, who held the list, glanced at it. “’Whole-wheat bread’.” He made a face. “You ate that and enjoyed it? I thought you bought it by accident.”

    Arthur flared. “Yes, I did! What’s wrong with it?!” They turned into the carbohydrates aisle.

    “The fact it tastes like crap.”

    “Oh, shut it! You’re not one to talk about what tastes right or not.” Arthur slowed as he searched for the brand he had liked. “I’ve seen you eat things that would make Paula Deen gag.”

    Alfred’s cheeks flushed pink and he huffily looked away, mumbling something about how Arthur enjoyed McDonald’s as well so he shouldn’t talk smack, either.

    “What’s next?” Arthur asked politely after putting a loaf of bread in the cart.

    “My poptarts. They should be further down.”

    “I don’t know how you can stand those. It’s like biting straight into a sugar cube, except the inside is gooey.”

    “Your taste isn’t as refined as mine,” Alfred haughtily replied, lightly tossing two boxes of the treats in the cart. They moved on. “We need eggs now.”

    “Already? But we bought two cartons last week!”

    “Yeah but between all the eggs I eat, and all the ones you use when you try to bake, we pretty much ravage them.”

    “Ah.” He could feel his cheeks getting warm.

    Alfred laughed and pecked his fiance’s cheek. “Aw, it’s ok! We’re probably singlehandedly saving the chicken farmers, and you learn something new each time you attempt to make food and instead summon the devil!”

    Arthur smacked him for that.

    So they went, going from section to section of the market, picking up what they needed, stopping to bicker and tease each other and laugh. By the time they got to the sixth item on the list (healthy snacks Alfred will actually eat), what should have been a quick fifteen-minute trip had extended to forty five minutes. Slowly, their cart filled up, some of it foods Alfred had been spontaneously tempted to buy, as it happened every week; at this point in their relationship, Arthur knew it was useless to argue against Alfred trying something new. But honestly, it was worth the extra dollars when there was an item Alfred loved: his face would light up at the discovery, and he would go on and on to Arthur about how tasty it was, and that he should try it, and how happy he was Arthur had let him buy it.

    Arthur turned to look at the person he was to marry soon, but he in turn was engaged in a furious staring contest between two different brands of chips. He smiled. Yes, it was worth it.