Stocking Up

     Methodically, she unloaded the heavy stuff, cans and liquids first.

As they slowly moved down the conveyor belt, Darla added the boxes, then the bread and vegetables.  After almost half an hour of checking out, the cashier told her the total.  She didn't even bat an eye, and immediately paid the $352 in one swipe of her credit card. 

     This was not the first, nor last, time that Darla Timbry had bought so much food, and three bag boys pushed her carts out to her van.  The second time she had ever went shopping here, the manager had come out and told her that the bag boys couldn't waste time loading her entire van full of food; since then, she'd spent another ten minutes moving the plastic bags bursting with food from the carts to her extensive car trunk.

     As she drove home, all she could think of was the food she had just bought.  Dangerously driving on autopilot, Darla happened to glance in her rear-view mirror to see flashing red and blue lights behind her.  At 19, she still remembered driver's ed; if a police car is behind you, stop in a public area.  Her house was only a block away, and was across the street from a gas station, so she didn't stop until her car was in the driveway.

     Stopping his police cruiser behind her, a young-looking policeman opened the door and stepped out.

"Ma'am, one of your brakelights are out," the man explained, writing her a ticket, "You're going to have to get that checked out." After handing her the ticket, he noticed the grocery bags spilling out of the open trunk. 

"Oh, let me help you with those," he insisted, smiling, "I'd be happy to help." 

     

The End

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