Tampons Aisle Five

by Rae Matthews

  “Well that doesn’t sound so bad,” I say confused.

  “Oh that part wasn’t, but later that day when I had to make a bowel movement I looked down at the paper in my hand after wiping; well it looked like I had crapped out a box of melted chocolate covered cherries. So haven’t touched them since,” she explains.

  After she finishes her story the woman smiles, and walks away.

  “Have a good night dear,” she says, waving good-bye.

  My jaw drops to the ground. Did she really just say that? I think I just threw up in my mouth. Did she really just fucking tell me that story? Seriously, I think I am going to be sick.

  There is no way I will be able to get that visual out of my head anytime soon, so there is no way I am going to enjoy my treat. I reach into my basket and pull out the four boxes of what was to be cherry goodness with a side of wonderful chocolate and slowly put them back on the shelf.

  “Screw you Sue.” I mumble as I pull my cell phone out of my back pocket.

  Ava: You have ruined Chocolate covered cherries for me for life. I hope you are happy with yourself.

  Sliding the cell phone back into my jeans pocket, I hold back the urge to vomit as the image slams back into my mind. I am so done with this night. I just want to go home. I might even want my mommy to hold me and tell me everything is going to be ok.

  I need to get the hell out of the place as fast as I can. I start power walking toward the frozen section to grab a few pizzas A few aisles down, a nice-looking male employee lifts his head from stocking an endcap full of Chicken in a Biskit and Easy Cheese, he tries to say hello to me as I approach. I rudely throw my hand up in a don’t talk to me pose that shouts I am on a mission, so do not say one word to me. The man’s smile fades into a scowl and he turns back to his shelves.

  I take a hard turn down the frozen section that holds the key to me getting out of this shit-show. I find my go-to frozen pizza waiting for me behind the thick glass. I don’t hesitate for a moment before I swing open the door, reach in, and grab three pepperoni Totino’s Party Pizzas and slam the door shut.

  That’s it, off to checkout I go, with everything I needed plus one little extra, my movie. All in all, I have to say I didn’t do too bad. I am going to get out of this place with very little damage to my wallet.

  As I approach the self-check-out, I am shocked to see a rope in front of the entry point, and all the lights above the machines are off. Dang it. I love self-check-out, no cashier trying to make small talk before they ask you if you would like to donate a dollar to whatever charity they are raising money for this month. I always feel so guilty saying no to them, I do say yes when I can, but I am not exactly living the most financially-stable life.

  I keep walking down to the middle of the row of check-out lanes, toward the only light-in-a-box that is turned on. Lane number 10, the last step before I can go home to Bella, put on my comfy pants, and crawl into bed. I imagine Bella sprawled out on my queen sized bed waiting for me to get home.

  I finally turn into the lane to find two people ahead of me in line. Well, one person and one fairy, I think. Directly ahead of me is a middle-aged woman with a cart full of groceries and in front of her is a medium-tall balding man wearing a white leotard and a pink tutu with fairy wings made from what looks like old metal coat hangers and pink tulle. A white halo made from several white pipe cleaners—I think that is what it’s made of—rests over the top of his head. His face is covered with a scruffy beard, which, in my opinion, just brings the whole look together.

  The woman looks back at me and shakes her head while rolling her eyes; she is obviously not impressed by this person’s choice of wardrobe. Lucky for him, the mean old woman isn’t around. She would have had a field day with this guy.

  The cashier scans Mr. Fairy’s last item and reads out the total.

  “That will be twenty-five dollars and thirty-seven cents.”

  “Isn’t that wonderful, I hope quarters will work,” the man says, faking a female tone.

  The cashier’s eyes about popped out of her head when the man lifts a red velvet-looking drawstring bag and begins scooping out quarters.

  “I, um, well, don’t you have a debit card or something?” the cashier asks him.

  “Oh no Dearie, the tooth fairy never carriers such things, I only ever have quarters on me,” the Tooth Fairy says in his feminine voice.

  I cannot believe this is happening to me. What in the hell is this world coming to when you can’t get tampons in the middle of the night in peace without crazy people lurking around the corner.

  The man continues to count his quarters, aloud.

  “One, two, three, four, that makes three dollars. One, two, three, four, that makes four dollars.”

  The woman in front of me huffs loudly then begins rubbing her temples. My guess is she doing this to calm herself and keep from strangling the strange man. At that moment, he pauses and turns toward her.

  “Is there a problem here?” he asks.

  My eyes have no choice but to focus on his mouth as he speaks in a snarky tone to her. I notice several of his teeth are missing. I can’t, I just can’t believe this madness. This has to be a dream. Scratch that, this has to be some kind of nightmare brought on by stress, or hormones, or something I ate. No way can this actually be happening.

  “Nope, by all means, please keep counting out your quarters, it's not like I have anything better to do than to sit here and wait for your crazy ass,” the woman fires back.

  “Listen here. Quarters are a legal form of tender and the preferred currency of my people, so get over it.”

  His feminine voice has disappeared to reveal a deeper, scratchier male voice.

  “Your people?” She barks. “And just who the hell would they be? The clinically insane or the I’m desperately seeking attention kind of people?”

  “At least I’m not one of your people. I’d hate to be a frigid bitch with that hooking-witch nose,” he snarls back.

  Oh hell, he did not just say that. With those words, the woman lets loose on him, her fury flying out without a care in the world.

  I make eye contact with the cashier, who mouths a silent, I am so sorry, to me.

  I smile at her and shrug my shoulders. Like, what can you do? After another minute, I place my basket on the floor because I might be here for a while. After a few more minutes of listening to them bicker back and forth like an old married couple, the woman asks for a manager. Well, demands one is more like it. At this point, I start to feel a rumbling in my tummy. You might know the one. The one tells you that it’s time to find a bathroom soon or you will be incredibly sorry.

  Had this night not gone so horribly wrong, I’d be at home right now instead of standing in the line from hell, still trying to pay for my crap while watching the damn Gong Show. If I had any guts at all I’d just take my basket and walk out the damn door without paying. I think this wretched store owes me for the shit I have dealt with tonight.

  My tummy grumbles more and I realize I do not have much time. Luckily, the Gong Show in front of me seems to be coming to an end. The manager arrives, manages to calms the two flaming idiots down, and helps both the guy and the cashier count out quarters as quickly as possible. The woman, still not happy by the look on her face, has finally shut her mouth long enough to let them just get it counted out and move on. With my tummy not getting any happier, I look up to the ceiling and count the exposed beams, trying to keep my mind off what is coming very soon. That is, until the woman makes yet another crappy remark then I hear coins tinkling to the ground.

  If you guessed the woman said something like, “You and your people need to be locked up on the funny farm,” then the now super-pissed-off fairy swiped all the neatly stacked piles of change into the floor in a fit of rage, you’d be right! I was too busy counting beams to pay attention so I missed the actual explosion, but now the arguing continues.

  I try to grab the manager’s attention to suggest that she open another lan
e to check the woman and me out, but I can’t get a word in over the tooth-fairy wannabe. Finally, I have to make a choice: drop my basket and leave, run to Walgreens for tampons, and just go home, or just use the bathroom here and hope this mess is over when I get done.

  My tummy is screaming for the bathroom, like right now, so I guess it’s making the choice for me. I grab my basket, walk around to an empty lane, and cross over to the bathrooms. The door has a giant sign reminding shoppers that baskets and carts are not allowed in the bathroom. Not wanting any more drama tonight, I quickly place my basket on the bench sitting between the men’s room and the ladies room and swing the door open.

  I can feel the pressure building toward an eruption and wonder if I might have waited a minute too long. I push open the stall door and with lighting speed, I unbutton my jeans, pull them and my granny panties to the floor and slam down on the porcelain throne.

  Just as I am getting ready to let the gates open I hear... a low clearing of the throat. Shit balls of fire, someone else is in the bathroom with me. Fuck, fuck, fuck. If I let the gates open now, I will not only break common bathroom etiquette but will probably scare the woman to death.

  I clench tight and start concentrating on anything except for what I need to do. Luckily, I hear her taking toilet paper off the roll as it spins loudly, and then I hear her zipper close after a few seconds. Ok here is my chance; come on, come on, come on, FLUSH! As soon as I hear the music in the form of the toilet flushing, I can let the gates open for a brief second and release some of the pressure.

  Waiting.

  Waiting.

  WAITING! COME ON ALREADY! FLUSH DAMN YOU!

  It feels like an eternity waiting for that flush, what the fuck is taking her so damn long? It's the little silver stick attached to the back of the toilet, it is not hard to find!

  I can feel the beads of sweat forming on my forehead as I curl my toes.

  Oh my god woman, flush the damn toilet already! I am going to explode any second. My body is starting to shake and I can’t hold it much longer.

  Then to my relief I hear the sound I have been longing for, the textbook sound of the click before the flush. The roar of the water fills the air and I release.

  The feeling is pure ecstasy! The pressure in my tummy immediately starts to subside, giving me some much-needed relief. As soon as the roar ends, I clench one more time to wait for her to leave.

  The woman takes her sweet-ass time washing her hands, then drying them. I’m sure she’s trying to kill me here. I hear her drying her hands with the paper towels and I think she is actually fully drying them. Come on lady, do what we all do. Dry them a little and use your pant legs to finish as you walk! I am close to exploding again when I hear her clear her throat and I assume walk toward the door. As soon as I hear the door close behind her, I release once again, letting out a loud extremely satisfying moan.

  Ten minutes and three flushes later I am empty and ready to finish this trip from hell so I can go home. I reach over to the large grey dispenser to reach for some toilet paper. Unfortunately, my hand only finds the rough feel of the cardboard.

  “Noooooo,” I shout in disbelief “No, no, no, no, SHIT!”

  This cannot be happening, this really cannot be happening right now.

  “You have got to be shitting me,” I shout.

  There has to be a second roll on the other side, there just has to be. I feel for the plastic slider and try to push it over. It won’t budge.

  “Ok, I can do this, be smarter than the plastic, you are smarter than the plastic,” I coach myself.

  I pick myself slightly off the seat and pivot to the right so I can get a better angle. Bending my head down to get a better look I find a little black button and push it. The slider moves easily to the other side, however, all I find is more cardboard.

  “Fucking A!’

  After taking a moment to bang my head against the stall wall, I lift myself up again and pivot back to the left, as I press my bottom back down onto the seat I feel it. My eyes widen as I feel it. The gross warm wetness of my poo now attached to my leg.

  “SON OF A MOTHERLESS GOAT!”

  I plow my face into my hands and use all my strength not to cry at this stupidity. Ok, think. Maybe if I shout for the cashier she will come to help me. It is worth a try anyway.

  “HELLO!” I shout.

  “HELLO, CAN ANYONE HEAR ME?”

  Nothing.

  After a few more attempts of getting someone’s attention and failing miserably, I have no choice but to call the store. I retrieve my cell phone from my purse and quickly do a Google search for the number and hit dial. I listen to the opening greeting wishing that a live person would answer, but no, once the greeting is done I am asked to press a number for the department I want to talk to.

  “If you know the extension you are trying to reach please press it now. For the bakery press one, for sporting goods press two, for seasonal press three, for customer service press five.”

  I quickly press five and wait.

  “Customer Service this is Peg, how can I help you?”

  “Hi Peg, I am sorry to bother you, but I am in your bathroom and I have no toilet paper in my stall, would someone be able to come bring me some, please?”

  “Excuse me?” the understandably confused woman asks.

  “I am in the bathroom and there is no toilet paper, I need some, can someone bring it to me?”

  “Lady I do not have time for these games, it is two-thirty in the morning and I am not falling for any pranks tonight.”

  “No, wait!”

  Before I can get the words out Peg hangs up on me. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised she didn’t believe me. I’m not sure I would believe me. And given the way my night is going, why would that have worked. Wait, did she say Two-thirty? What the hell, where had the time gone, I really need to get home and crawl into my bed.

  Ok, well I have no other choice, I am going to have to make a break for it and pray that no one walks in on me. I quickly unlock my stall door and with my pants still around my ankles I shimmy to the stall next door.

  “YES!”

  I find a very full roll of toilet paper, with lightning speed I unroll a large wad into my hands and shimmy back to my original stall. I didn’t want to risk someone coming in now and seeing the mess I made. I make fast work of cleaning up myself and the seat before pulling my pants up and grabbing my purse to leave.

  About then I realized I was getting a little full, if you know what I mean. Dang it, I should have opened the box and brought at least one of them in with me. Scanning the room I find the large silver machine that every ladies room has. I dig to the bottom of my purse for a quarter.

  A few minutes later I am ready to try checking out again and more than ready to go home to Bella.

  I pull open the bathroom door to exit the ladies room with a newfound pep in my step, knowing I am moments from getting out of this insane asylum. Or so I thought, as I look down to the bench to where I left my basket to retrieve it except ... that it’s gone. You have got to be kidding me! Where is my basket? I look to the left, nothing; I look back to the right, nothing. I walk over to the Service Counter, still nothing. With no other choice, I walk over to the only cashier.

  “Excuse me, did you see where my basket went? I set it on the bench over by the women’s bathroom door.”

  With a guilty expression on her face, the cashier looks over my shoulder toward the bathrooms.

  “Oh um, you mean you were still in there? I am so sorry, we thought you left and decided not to get the items.”

  “Huh? Why would I leave without getting my stuff?” I demand.

  “Well with all that was happening with that strange man who thought he was the tooth fairy I thought you decided to leave.”

  “And why would I have put the basket by the bathroom if I was leaving.”

  “Oh I don’t know, I guess I thought you just put it down as you were leaving.”

  “Whatever
, do you still have it?” I speak slowly trying to hide my annoyance but failing.

  “I’m sorry I don’t, my manager took it to put all the items back.”

  My eyes must have jumped out of my skull and threatened to slap her because she took a small step backward like she is getting ready to make a run for it.

  “You are messing with me, right?” I ask with a forced laugh.

  Her guilt-and-fear-filled eyes tell me that she is not messing with me. I admit I was being rude but I have had about enough of this night. I give her another evil glare before rolling my eyes and turning to go grab another basket.

  This night cannot honestly be happening; this is the most ridiculous night of my life. No one will ever believe me that this ever happened.

  I reach the hand-held baskets and grab a new one, then begin marching back to the feminine products aisle. My face must scream do no talk to me, do not even look at me because the two people I passed turned wide-eyed and immediately turned away the moment they made eye contact with me. I have to admit I was fully ok with that, since this is the most pissed-off I had probably ever been in my life. That is, until I hear my name in a sweet voice next to me.

  “Ava, hey there you are. I was looking all over for you.”

  “Liam? What are you still doing here?”

  I don’t know why but my mood is immediately changed. I am no longer pissed off Ava now I am giddy, butterfly-filled Ava.

  “Ok so, I actually work here; I’m an undercover shopper,” he tells me leaning over to whisper in my ear.

  I don’t know why he has to whisper that, but then I catch a hint of red forming on his cheeks. Is he embarrassed? I don’t know why he would be, it sounds like a lot of fun. In a way, he is kind of a spy. I picture him lurking around corners waiting to see a would-be thief stows some goods away in their pockets or bag, the thrill of jumping into view telling them to freeze, or chasing them around the store before taking them to the ground. I feel the adrenaline already coursing through me. That’s when I remember he was looking for me; does he think I stole something?