tonight at trader joe’s i was walkin down the wine aisle with a chip on my dang shoulder. i was looking for the $3.99 bottle of wine that has a pig on the label. a t-joe’s employee was restocking some shelves fifteen feet away. i watched as he pivoted on his heel, and we were both surprised when his shoe produced a loud clown shoe squeaky noise. he set down the box of wine he was holding and, with this puzzled look on his face, purposely slid the front his shoe across the floor as if sharpening a blade. it made an even louder squeaky sound. i think he was oblivious that i was there because he took his other foot and did the same thing back and forth over and over at the rate of one clown squeak per second. he was going squeak wild in the wine aisle and having himself a good ol time. he seemed not to care how insanely loud it was. i loved it. i loved how loud his squeaking was.
said i to him: “you squeakin around big time over here, huh?”
said he: “. . . something’s not quite right.”
EXITING THE WINE AISLE EMPTY-HANDED, I REPLIED:
“yeah baby . . . tell me about it!!!”