I'm a paranoid smoker. Mostly because I worry that everybody knows I'm high. But the fact is, everybody does know I'm high because my eyes get big, I laugh at everything, and I constantly look around at stuff or get distracted by shiny colors. Also, passersby catch wind that I'm stoned because half the things I say are, "Holy shit I'm so high." Needless to say, I don't venture into public very often after I blaze.
On this particular evening, I smoked some weed. Then I decided I wanted candy. My roommate, Jewels, wanted cigs. So we jumped into my vehicle, The Skull Bus, and cruised down to the local supermarket. Dig, people?
KC: Oh, do they have those flavored Tootsie Rolls in there? Like lime and vanilla? I heart those.
Jewel: Are you seriously a guy?I'm not a bad driver, but when I'm high, I drive like an octogenarian on the way to a butt doctor appointment that I don't want to go to. Luckily, the grocery store lies just about a mile away.
And that's where the adventure starts.
As Jewels and I approached a curve in the road she pointed to some apartment building and said, "My boyfriend never wants me to walk to the grocery store alone because of this neighborhood. People are getting killed there all the time."
KC: Really?
J: Yeah, there's a murder there or some crazy drug house bust every so often.
KC: Well shit. Thanks for telling me that before I moved just down the street from it.
J: Oh, it's not that bad in our neighborhood.
KC: Holy shit!
I kind of screamed yet whispered.
J: I told you, our neighborhood isn't that bad.
KC: No… (I motioned to the three cops and German shepherd searching the boulevard.) What the fuck is going on?
J: I told you, there's murderers out there.
KC: Tonight?
J: Maybe. Who knows?
KC: Why are we whispering? We're in a car.
J: Good point. Should we still go to the store?
KC: I really want some candy.
J: Me too. Fuck this murderer.
We coasted down the block with our eyes peeled for cops, cop dogs, or somebody running from both. I pulled into the parking lot, but the weirdness didn't quit there.
KC: What the fuck is that semi doing here? What's underneath those tarps? Could somebody have stolen a tank or a Transformer robot or something and that's why the dogs are sniffing for him?
J: If there was a tank or a Transformer robot or something else don't you think they'd have a little more security than just three beat cops and a dog? There'd be, like, ninjas and stuff.
KC: Oh yeah. Good point, Jewels.
We entered the scared King Sooper's and traveled straight to the candy section.
J: KC, I need you to remember one thing for me.
KC: What's that?
J: Daytime cough medicine for my boyfriend. Got that?
KC: No, because I'm really high and I'll forget in five seconds.
J: Can you please promise to remember?
KC: No, just get the medicine first while I look for candy.
Thus we split up and I spent my idle time searching for the perfect candy. Do I stick with the standard Mike & Ikes? Or do I go with more exotic fare, such as Swedish Fish? Variety is the spice of life, but I don't like things too spicy.
I examined the variety of gummy stuff, jelly beans, and gummy jelly things.
Then a pitch-black devil shouted my name so loudly my eardrums popped. Or perhaps the message the demon delivered ruptured my auditory system.
J: Hey KC, do you think Daytime Severe Congestion would work or Daytime Multiple Symptoms would be better?
KC: Jesus Christ, woman! Don't sneak up on me like that!
J: Um, you've just been staring at the candy for about five minutes. I even asked you if you like Dots or Good & Plentys more.
KC: Oh yeah, I forgot about that. I like Dots more because Good & Plentys taste like candied Jagermeister. What's your question?
Jewels massaged her temples as my stupidity became contagious and started giving her a migraine. Then she held up two boxes.
J: Severe Congestion or Multiple Symptoms?
KC: Um, I like the blue box the best.
J: Seriously?
KC: Yep.
J: You're an idiot. Have you found your candy yet?
KC: Nope, I'm still deciding.
J: How can it be that hard? I'm getting these gourmet chocolates and this giant four-pound bag of Tootsie Roll stuff.
KC: Oh, do they have those flavored Tootsie Rolls in there? Like lime and vanilla? I heart those.
J: Are you seriously a guy?
KC: Yes. But I can't figure out which candy I'll want to eat. I don't want to get too much, because no matter what it won't be enough. So if I just get a little bit of everything, I won't send my self into sugar shock or give myself diabetes. Plus, candy hangovers are the worst.
J: Your argument is so idiotic, yet so beautifully illustrated. But the faster you pick, the faster we can actually EAT candy.
KC: Fantastic point. A blast from the past with Gummi Cream Frogs and, um, Giant Chewy Nerds.
As I walked to the self-checkout stand I saw Brach's bulk candy, so I decided to snag a few pieces to round out my sweets purchase.
Since I drove, Jewels decided to pay for everything. So first I looked at Halloween costumes until she asked me to get some fruit punch Gatorade.
KC: I hate that stuff!
J: It's for my boyfriend.
I walked to the Gatorade aisle and dropped off the grossest flavor. Jewels looked a little distraught. She pointed to the Brach's.
J: How the fuck do you ring this in?
KC: I don't know, it should have one of those produce codes, like for oranges, turnips or, um, oranges.
J: When have you ever bought a turnip?
KC: I don't know. Never. I think they're a root vegetable though.
J: I know what they are, but you obviously don't. But seriously. What should we do with this stuff?
KC: I was going to say "steal it" but that guy is watching.
J: Why didn't you say so? He can help us.
So the checkout guy tried to remember the number. We typed in about ten different numbers. He couldn't remember if the code was "7191," "7171," or "123456789." But we tried all of them and a few in between. Then our non-savior grabbed another dude, and then he punched in some numbers, but it wouldn't work. Finally, they left us to look for the manager on duty, who obviously wasn't on duty.
KC: I don't really want that shit. I figured I'd spend fifty cents on some weird candy. Let's just leave it and leave.
J: We can't just leave! We put these poor guys through hell looking for your stupid candy's stupid bar code. That is a dick move.
KC: So what? It's also dick to not have the fucking barcode on the thing.
J: KC, besides your mom, has anybody you ever known ever bought this stupid Brach's bulk candy.
KC: Fine.
So after five minutes of shopping and a quarter of an hour of waiting for the right price number, we finally paid and left. I stared at the military-looking semi trailer. Were there two things-that-looked-like-tanks on it before or were there just three? I shrugged, knowing if there was a giant robot attack, I'd probably hear about it, or finally meet a giant robot and make him my best friend.
We started driving and all the cops were gone. When we arrived home, Jewels' boyfriend was still sick, but I found two unwatched Netflix DVDs. So I sparked another bowl and watched some movies.
The moral of the story: candy cures everything.