Close Encounters of the Crazy Kind

At this point my brushes with eccentric characters have become much like the “chicken or the egg” conundrum. Do I write about these types because I run into them or do I run into them because I write about them? I don’t think I’m seeking out these encounters but maybe the mere act of writing about them, attracts them.

Cut to me walking into a Ralph’s supermarket to ¬¬¬scoop up some Almond milk. I usually get soy milk from the ninety nine cents store but apparently soy milk has too much of the female hormone, estrogen. I don’t sob while watching Seinfeld reruns and I haven’t told anyone that it’s not what they said, but how they said it. Still, I figure I should take a break from using female hormone milk to mix my very manly protein powder after my very manly workouts. (Resistance bands are manly right?)

I walked past a guy in the parking lot and we had this exchange:

APOCALYPSE DUDE: You going in there?
ME: Yes
APOCALYPSE DUDE: You better hurry! They’re running out of food!

It took everything in me to not ask him some follow-up questions. Was it a certain section that was depleted? Were they also running out of toiletries? How about cashews?

I hope my doomsday soothsayer wasn’t offended that I didn’t speed up after his warning. It’s not that I wasn’t taking heed but no one else was heading toward the mega mart so at least I only had to contend with the mayhem already inside the store and those people already had the drop on me so keeping my leisurely pace seemed to make sense.

Of course Ralph’s was loaded. There were enough provisions to feed a city. To be fair, he didn’t say when they would run out of food. 2025 would be my guess. Almond milk is too thick for my protein powder to fully dissolve. I wish he would’ve warned me about that.