It's all about the Pizza (part 2)

Previously, on it's all about the pizza...
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Having completed our shopping, we headed towards the main task of our visit: Pizza.

I bought 3 pieces of pizza and one berry smoothie. One piece for the each of us, and we'd just split the smoothie between the boys, because I pretty much never drink when I'm eating. And I don't like my food to touch either, except in certain circumstances, like mashed potatoes, which mixes with anything, and ... ANYWAYS...

Now, as I was headed towards checkout I vaguely remembered my sweet, sweet Sugar-Momma giving me some tips. She told me that you could pay for lunch at the checkout aisle. She also said something about keeping the receipt to show the guy with the hairnet, and something else---something about silverware.

We get through checkout easy enough, cause we didn't have all that much stuff. But it wasn't home free yet. We get into line, and both boys are nearly frothy with anticipation. They are all kinetic energy, and the restraints are blanching. Frightened now, I begin to notice the line forming behind my small hunting party. I hate that! I always make bad decisions when lines form behind me. I don't know why.

So the kid asks me what kind I want, and I order two pepperoni and one cheese. He must have noticed the line too because he practically threw all 3 pieces at me. I look and each piece is hanging off the plate, almost all the way around. If you can imagine seeing a piece of cherry pie served to you, no, wait, 3 pieces of cherry pie, in generous portions, served to you on the lid of an 6 oz. yogurt container. That's what we're talking about. And then he hands you the smoothie. Which hand do I pick that up with?

So thinking quickly, and again noting the line forming behind me, I put a piece of this bronto-sauras pizza in the cart behind Mongo, who had been reaching for it since we pulled up to the counter, and reach out for the Berry Smoothie with my newly freed hand. In my other hand I am balancing 2 yogurt lids (I used to wait tables, so I'm experienced like that).

So here I am, two pieces of flaccid pizza-pie in my left hand, berry smoothie in my right hand, Mongo in the cart attempting to pick up 3rd piece of flaccid pizza, and Tigger just sort of watching. Pizza guy has moved on, accustomed to the look on my face. That's fine for him, but that also means that based on precident, there will be somebody ready to stand where I am standing and recieve his pizza in just a few seconds.

The next few seconds are a blur now, looking back. Somehow, I retrieved the limp pizza from Mongo before the whole of the goodness slid off into our groceries. Costco security guards have been called onto the scene because of the pile-up at concessions. And of course, beings as their Costco guards, they're HUGE, and there are 3 of them banded together. Sort of like the disney version of Alice in Wonderland's TweedleDee & TweedleDum, only now there's a TweedleHuge too. So it's like a Marx Brother's movie. In color.

So we manage to evade incarceration, and I decide that getting the table furthest from the scene of the crime is a good idea. So we get there. The last table. Deep breath. AHhhhhhhhh. I'm ready for pizza. So.

(look around).

no napkin. no silverware. no help.
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