Three Bad Eggs
They sidled through the hatchery of carcasses and boiled
bounty of plenty, where faceless jars and cans all blurred
into a snail crawl of tedium and blank stares that looked at the
overhead lights like they were thirsting for a mothership or
some golden sun to blast back from eons ago or a dusty voyage
but they kept walking and their pace was like mall cops denied
respect and dates and their pulse quickened.
she was the first to notice his body and he was the first to notice
that nobody else had noticed what was unmistakably clear:
that the deli counter clerk had fallen over gross plastic tubes of
air conditioner absent bologna and sheets of congealing cheese
and the flies had come not for his soul but for the wasted plastic
that was marketed as food.
She started to dart like a fish from being stabbed through the
rippling stream magic mirror and he checked the clerk’s clammy pulse
and the clerk was barely alive or was once dead but crawled back to life.
They started to lose their shinola but realized that fussing to a fevered
scream was about as useful as selling Elvis earrings to Bostonian bankers
or convincing sons of the soil to invest in bitcoin and solar panels
so they carried the poor moaning bastard through aisle 6 right up to 10
and used his ghost like face to batter open the outside door.
They dropped him without grace next to a puddle of piss, checked the poor
bastard’s wallet, raided his pockets and lint fell out like funny cosmic clockwork
to let the detectives on scene have a clue of some sort I guess.
Anyway, they picked up their walk away from marooning the deli clerk who
was 2 days late for his bridge club where he was supposed to get an honor
of some kind and turns out that the deli clerk lived and identified the couple
as the 2 mall cops he had mocked on Saturday night and it was just all a
weird cosmic mind melt that karma grabbed all three by the nuts because
the clerk went to jail for possession and the couple for thievery and all in all
they were the real bad eggs in the grocery store, even worse than that liquid
dog foul they call egg beaters on sale for $3.