Newton Can Freakin’ Hang

I don’t know why things like this happen to me but they do. Maybe they happen to everyone else and maybe I am more apt to share my follies on here but lately I feel like I was born under a bad sign. Most people know that I am a big believer in karma almost to the extreme that killing a spider is tough for me. In the back of my mind there maybe a chance that in the next life I will be a spider. I know that sounds crazy but so is my life. I’m a Catholic and we don’t even believe in reincarnation but I am taking no chances. Spiders repulse me so unless one is chewing on my ear I will probably just leave the room and make up the excuse that he will eat all the flies which I hate 1/10000’s of a percent less. But I digress. If it wasn’t for bad luck, I would have no luck at all.

So, I was at the grocery store yesterday picking up a few items for the week. I try not to eat out for every meal but as many know it is almost impossible so my list was short only including breakfast food, coffee, and a few Healthy Choice meals for odd nights. I also had a two liter of Sprite on the list because nothing will make a fresh out of the microwave, 900 degree on the outside, -32 degree on the in side, fettuccine alfredo chicken meal go down easier then to be complimented by lemon and lime. So while carrying six items in my arms, (because getting a cart means the temptation to buy 30 more items) I reached for the three liter Sprite perched on the top shelf when all Hell broke lose.

Maybe this was in God’s plan? Maybe the other five three liters where making a mad dash for an escape? Perhaps Newton was just an asshole? Regardless the reason, five three liters of Sprite seemed to leap from the gated barrier and crash to the floor, 6 feet below. But three of them didn’t bounce. Their hulls were breached and they took off in different directions like missiles. The other two bounced face level causing me to instinctively to drop my items in the hopes to catch the already armed sodas before they too would initiate the launch system. Of course I had eggs that were now scrambled.

This happened in about 2 and a half seconds. In that time most would drop an F-bomb or two. That would be appropriate for this circumstance. I, on the other hand, never have the right word to say. Instead I scream the only thing that pops in my head and it usually is a little more embarrassing than the event itself. Prime example: I slipped and fell in public. Instead of shouting something cool like “shit” or “damn it” I screamed “NOOOOOO!” As if I refused to accept the fact that my feet where parallel to my face.

So while the soda rockets where streaking down the isle, my groceries where in a pile on my new shoes and I was involuntarily drinking Sprite, I shouted the only thing that popped in my head. I yelled in a panicked voice, “GRANDMOTHER!” Grandmother? Who says that? I’ve had a day to digest this and my theory is that I was about to say “mother f*cker” but I was trying to be reserve and my data bank went straight to “grandmother”. That’s my theory.

Well, after the mist cleared there was an eerie quite. The others who had been in the soda and chip isle had bolted from the scene as if to say “not my mess”. I could feel the trickle of Sprite dripping from my chin, the last exhaust of CO2 leave the bottles as soda drained from the cracked tops and that unmistakable warming sensation of pure humiliation as blood rushed to my face. There were only a few options.

1. Fake a seizure
2. Get pissed off and mask the embarrassment through blame of someone else
3. Just run
4. Suck it up and wait for the poor kid to show up with a mop.

I waited. I collected the half drained soda bottles as the chatter from the neighboring isle began to resume. I could hear their conversations. I couldn’t tell if they were laughing but I did hear some mention of “grandmother”. I assume I am being talked about right now around at least four office water coolers.

Soon the mop and bucket arrived and the kid assured me he had it under control. I held my breath and did the walk of shame to the check out isle and explained the incident to the cashier and she told me it was alright. I left quickly and sat in my new car all sticky. Feeling mission unaccomplished, I went home and showered trying to laugh the past hour away. It wasn’t as funny as I had hoped but I am sure one day it will be. For now though, screw three liters, screw Publix and screw Sprite. I’m now a Fresca man.