When I got home from work today, I decided to get out bread and make myself a sandwich. As I pulled it out out of the bread box, I noticed something strange. The wrapping had a big yellow and orange sticker on it that said, “Manager’s Special.”
My first thought was, Oh oh, here we go again!” My wife is a very thrifty shopper. In today’s economy, you have to be. She clips coupons, looks for specials, and combs supermarkets for deals. The only problem is she loves to buy things that end up not being bargains. One thing she always buys is supposedly day-old bread. Within two days it’s already turning green with mold. Have you ever gone into a day-old bread store? The place is stocked with loaves of bread at ridiculously low prices. What happens each day after the store closes? Do Elves come in, haul off all the now two-day old bread, and refill the store with new, day-old bread? My wife also goes to Farmer’s Markets in January when it’s ten degrees, and comes home with fruit and vegetables that don’t look or taste very good, and only last a few days. I try to tell her nicely that Farmer Brown isn’t growing fruit in hydroponic gardens in his basement. The fruit just spent two months on a boat trip from Chile.
Do you know what I’m having for dinner tonight? I’m eating hamburger patties that cost 99 cents for a two-pound box! Pretty scary, huh. I don’t even want to think about the 49 cent hot dogs in the freezer. My cupboards are full of dented cans of soup and Chef Boyardee ravioli that I’m afraid to eat. I found one the other day with a rust spot at the dent and an expiration date of six months ago. I spend half my time reading articles on Salmonella, and preparing for the worst. It’s not just food my wife buys at bargain prices. She goes to flea markets and buys me cheap socks and three dollar reading glasses. I haven’t read in two weeks, and I’m barefoot because my socks fell apart. Maybe one of you can answer a question for me. This morning I was drinking the worst coffee I’ve ever tasted in my life. I don’t know where my wife got it. Tell me something. Does coffee grow in Poland?
Didn’t you check out the Manager? May have been special as gorgeous, bright and available?
Are you sure you weren’t drinking Shoe Polish?
I didn’t think about that. And yes, I was drinking shoe polish. How did you know?
Well, it said it was Polish coffee, didn’t it?
You’re pretty sharp today, Colonialist. That one went over my head for a moment.
I thought the penny might have levitated.