Lucifer's Grandma

I was sitting on my couch plowing through a carton of Ben and Jerry's Chunky Monkey ice cream and watching The Biggest Loser when it occurred to me that maybe it's time to do something about my eating habits.

On the TV screen, a 420-pound behemoth named Danny was wheezing his way through a one mile "run".

Jesus, how can someone just let themselves go like that? I wondered, as a shoveled another spoonful of ice cream into my gaping maw.

At that point, a friendly little gnome named Irony tapped me on the shoulder and whispered, "Uh, dude, you're not exactly svelte yourself.  How's the ice cream?"

In my defense, I'm nowhere near 420 pounds, but Irony's point was well-taken.  Time to start eating better and visit the gym more often.  I've been down this road before.  I'll get in shape, then put on some weight, work it off again, etc., etc.  It's not hard for me to lose the extra poundage once I make the commitment, but it's that first step that's the toughest.

Okay, so I've been on this diet for a couple weeks now, and it's driving me crazy.  I rarely eat breakfast anyway, so that's not a problem, and for lunch I'll have a salad and for dinner some chicken or steak and veggies.  No snacking, and that's the tough part.  Long story short, I'm friggin' starving all the time.

The other day for lunch, I went to the grocery store to buy my usual chef salad and low-fat dressing.  I parked my car and started walking through the parking lot, heading for the entrance.  Since I was malnourished with visions of cherry tomatoes dancing in my head, I wasn't really paying attention to where I was going; therefore, I did not see the little old lady and her shopping cart full of cat food crossing in front of me.

I walked right into it.

Unfortunately, grandma's 20-pound bag of Meow Mix had been precariously balanced on top of the cart, and when we collided, the bag of cat food fell to the ground and, I'm not exaggerating, EXPLODED on the pavement.  Kibbles skittered under parked cars, bits bounced haphazardly into traffic, the great taste cats love was scattered as far as the eye could see.  The sweet gray-haired granny surveyed the situation, her lower lip quivered, she looked me in the eye and politely shrieked:

"NOW LOOK WHAT YOU DID YOU STUPID FUCKING IDIOT!" 

What the?  Did that decrepit old cat lady just drop an F-bomb on me?

"THIS IS FOR MY CATS!  NOW THEY'RE GONNA FUCKIN' STARVE AND IT'S ALL YOUR FAULT!  WHY DON'T YOU WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOIN', JACKASS?"

Thank God the lady didn't have a cane, or she'd probably have beaten me to death.  I tried to calm her down.  "I'm sorry, ma'am, that's my fault -- "

"YOU'RE GODDAMN RIGHT IT'S YOUR FUCKIN' FAULT!  HOW AM I GONNA FEED MY KITTIES WHEN THEIR FOOD IS ALL OVER THE GROUND?!"

"Please calm down, ma'am, I'll take care of it.  Let me go inside and talk to the manager and I'll see if they'll replace the spilled food.  If not, I'll just buy you a new bag."

"MY KITTIES NEED TO EAT, YA KNOW!  YOU SHOULD WATCH WHERE YOU'RE GOING!"

Clearly, I was getting nowhere trying to reason with Lucifer's grandmother.  I flagged down one of the store's shopping cart wranglers, and he came over to help.

"Maybe you can help us," I said.  "I just ran into this lady's cart and -- "

"THAT STUPID JACKASS KNOCKED OVER MY KITTIES' FOOD!"

"Right," I continued, "so I was wondering if we could get her a new bag."

"That's no problem at all, we'd be happy to take care of it."

I looked at Granny.  "Why don't you put the rest of your things in your car, and I'll go in and get the cat food and bring it out to you.  Sound okay?"

"Damn right."  She seemed to be calming down a little, now that she knew Cleopatra, Fluffy and Mr. Mittens weren't going to miss their dinner.

I followed Stan the cart man over to the pet aisle and got another bag of Meow Mix.  He filled me in on a couple things.  "Yeah, that lady's in here all the time," he said.  "She's a whacko.  Last week, one of our checkers told her that her coupons were expired, and I thought she was gonna snap."

Well good, at least it's nothing personal.

Stan got the okay from the manager to replace the cat food, and I carried the bag out to Granny's 1971 Chevy Impala.

"Here you are, ma'am.  I'm really sorry about that."  I put the bag in the trunk.

"Yeah, well, be more careful next time."

As I turned to walk away, I swear I heard her mutter . . .

"Jackass."

I got in my car, and as I started driving away, I realized that in all the commotion, I'd forgotten to buy my salad.  Well, fuck it, I'm not going back to the store.  So I hit the drive-thru at In-N-Out Burger, picked up Double-Double and some fries, and went back to work.  The diet can take the day off.

I blame Danny, the 420-pound Biggest Loser.  If it weren't for him, I never would have been at the grocery store that day to begin with.

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