Rockytop will always be home sweet home to me...
Tonight, I went to the supermarket. I should have been forewarned about what was soon to happen just by noticing an antique Coca~Cola trucked parked out front. There was a party to be going on up in that crazy grocery store. Soon as I walked in a blaring voice came over the loudspeaker, "Attention: Brookshire's shoppers: There is a live band at the photolab."
Sure enough, there was a live band, a bluegrass band complete with a banjo picker and dual guitar playing girls harmonizing into boom mics. There were older lady shoppers clapping and clogging to those old-timey tunes. That was just a regualar old hootenanny.
There was a roving lady photographer snapping pictures of all the fun in the deli. That confused me because I thought the good time was obviously up front with the shoppers' hoedown.
There were free wine samples. I had no idea what I was drinking, even though I think it was a Shiraz of some sort. I just kept rolling by the wine table every so often grabbing another cup, and the nice man kept saying "Here, let me top that off for you." Whatever I was drinking was good because I kept catching glimpses of a clown.
I stayed far away as I could from that clown.
There were also some cubes of cheese and ham impaled with pretzels. I refused the chesse in total fear of the impending results. Bluegrass bands, dancing shoppers, clowns and the paparatzi was plenty enough excitement to see at the supermarket on a Thursday night without the use of quesomorphins.
Sure enough, there was a live band, a bluegrass band complete with a banjo picker and dual guitar playing girls harmonizing into boom mics. There were older lady shoppers clapping and clogging to those old-timey tunes. That was just a regualar old hootenanny.
There was a roving lady photographer snapping pictures of all the fun in the deli. That confused me because I thought the good time was obviously up front with the shoppers' hoedown.
There were free wine samples. I had no idea what I was drinking, even though I think it was a Shiraz of some sort. I just kept rolling by the wine table every so often grabbing another cup, and the nice man kept saying "Here, let me top that off for you." Whatever I was drinking was good because I kept catching glimpses of a clown.
I stayed far away as I could from that clown.
There were also some cubes of cheese and ham impaled with pretzels. I refused the chesse in total fear of the impending results. Bluegrass bands, dancing shoppers, clowns and the paparatzi was plenty enough excitement to see at the supermarket on a Thursday night without the use of quesomorphins.
posted by Nikki | 7:40 PM
3 Comments:
The South is funny.
I have seen alot of things go down in stores, including clowns, antique vehicles, bands and free samples, but never all at once with dancing shoppers, snapshots and flowing alcohol.
Gee, that makes me wonder what ever happened to those rollerblading Wal~Mart Associates. That was short lived.
this entry had me cracking up Nikki! live band in the photoshop! LOL that will be the day grocery stores here serve liquor...liquor is only sold in liquor stores here ;-)
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