I’m never going to that grocery store again. At least I’ll try not to. But that milk, its great.
It seems normal from the outside; it’s the kind of store you’d see in a dream. The outside is a crisp green with the name of the store in clean white lettering, the birds not even managing to streak it with their expulsions.
It’s my go to store, and until now it hasn’t felt this weird. In fact I swear it used to be a little more decrepit, but I guess they just renovated.
The cars in the parking lot are were all red that day, and as I walked behind them I was concerned that they may have reversed and run me over. People often buy a nice pastry or sandwich, and half their mind is concentrating on that rather than what’s behind them. As I was watching the lights on each car making sure that they were not about to reverse, I bumped into one that was parked a little further out than the others. I just hoped I hadn’t scratched it somehow, I did not have the money to pay for a repair. It seemed fine, but then I worried that perhaps someone had seen me, and might scratch it themselves, and then blame me. I shook the thought out of my head and hurried inside the stores safety. As I pushed the green handle on the door, I was finally away from the possibility that I may turn the tarmac red, and just hoped no one had seen me bump into the car.
The store used to have a bell that dinged when someone entered, but it seems that they had removed it. I Wondered that day whether I had walked to the wrong store, and that perhaps this was a new pop up in my town. It didn’t matter much though, they still sell the same products. I picked up a basket, which, from the look of the handles had not been used possibly at all.
Milk, apples, yogurts and bread were on my list, and so I headed to the dairy aisle first. The floors much like the outside were perfectly shiny, but again perhaps it was a new store, and maybe there hadn’t been many people in there yet.
I was sure this was the same store I always went to, but something felt off about it, and I couldn’t quite put my finger on it. It was also quite empty, and rather quiet. It didn’t even seem like workers were restocking the shelves and making the usual racket as they tore open the cardboard boxes.
When I say not busy, I realised soon enough that I may have been the only one in the store; there wasn’t even the usual beep of the tills, just the cashiers sat there, hands rested upon their laps, and looking at me as I made my way to the milk.
When I found the aisle – and yes it was where I’d expected it to be – I realised that perhaps they had just rebranded. The milk, yogurts, and cheese were not the usual brand names. My go to milk was always fairlife, I always found it the creamiest. However it seemed as if all the food was now the grocery stores own brand. The milk cartons were as basic as it comes; the semi skimmed was blue and was labelled “Milk”, the full fat one pink.
I picked the full fat one up and put it in my basket. I noticed as I scanned the shelves that everything was the same price, “$1.75”, but again perhaps it was an introductory offer for their new own brand products.
I started to prefer this store to my other one, because everything was packaged ever so perfectly; the food inside as if it was made from plastic. The cheeses’ surfaces were so smooth, not the usual holes that speckle the surface and make me wonder whether perhaps there will be maggots writhing around inside the block.
Next were the yogurts.
Once again very basic packaging with a simple label telling you what flavour they were. I picked banana, which I’d never tried before; the other flavours just didn’t sound appealing.
I then headed over to the bread aisle, where I usually pick the seeded loaf. As you can imagine the bags were simplistic, and when I picked the loaf up, I realised that the seeds had been placed meticulously onto the surface. No seeds fell to the bottom as I placed it in my basket, as if they had used some food safe superglue.
Apples were last.
The produce aisle was full of the most vibrant picks. Oranges with seemingly no dimples upon their surfaces; carrots with no marks on their skin, the same goes for the bananas. And much like everything else that I had put in my basket, everything was “$1.75”, which I did think was a little steep for one banana, but they did look delicious.
I placed two apples in my basket, and I was ready to check out.
I headed to the cashier, and placed my goods on the conveyer belt, and as the apples tumbled towards the till, I noticed that their glossy red surfaces began to get coated in a green fuzz.
The cashier then picked the apple up, and looked at me. Her eyes grew wide, and that’s when my stomach sank, this really was all very strange. No other customers. Everything the same price, and the eerie sound of silence.
‘Did you touch the red cars outside?’ the lady said to me as she held the apple.
It felt like an apple had become lodged in my throat, and I struggled to get my words out. ‘Yes, it was an accident.’
‘That’s why the apple has gone all mouldy, you see,’ the lady said to me as she held the apple towards me, the mould continuing to spread across it.
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I will have to call the manager, he won’t be happy with this,’ the woman said as she placed the apple down before picking up the phone. ‘Customer has touched a red car outside, and the infection has now spread onto the produce.’
At this moment, I was wondering if perhaps this was all some strange reality tv show that I had walked in on, you know to film my reaction to the absurdity.
‘Don’t leave.’
I waited for about five minutes, not quite sure what to make of the situation, while the cashier just stared at the mouldy apple.
‘Lock the doors Sarah, we have to fix this, he won’t be happy I tell you,’ a man’s voice said from behind me. I turned to see the manager, his silver name tag gleaming, his hair brushed over to one side, his eyes as wide as the ladies were. His eyes were strange looking, more than the fact that they were wide open. It was as if I was actually looking at my own reflection when I stared into them. My own eyes encased by features that were certainly not mine.
‘Yes sir.’
Sarah then pushed a button behind the till, causing a quick succession of clicks to echo through the store, presumably the doors locking. At this point I was sure that this must be some tv show, which would also make sense, seeming as no other customers were inside, and most likely that was because they had gone to the normal store, which clearly I had someone missed, and found myself there.
‘You really ought to be more careful when you walk through a car park with red cars,’ the man said as he began to ring his fingers, his chest rising quickly. ‘The whole store could be contaminated now, the whole store! My boss is going to be very mad, all this produce ruined!’ the man yelled.
I stepped back.
‘The only way I can rid the store of contamination is you, customer.’
‘What is going on? If this is some tv show, then I’m sure you have a good enough reaction from me already.’
‘Tv show? Absurd! You need to come with me now! My boss will not be happy with this!’ the man said as he moved forward to grab me.
It’s just a tv show. Maybe if you play along they may pay you more. Just go with him.
I followed the man, lurching away as he tried to grab my arm. ‘You don’t need to touch me, I’ll follow.’
I followed the nervous wreck of a man until we go the doors that led to the back.
This must be where everyone jumps out at me and tells me that it’s all a joke.
The thing is, there was still fear hidden behind this false pretence. But I was scared that if I tried to run, things might actually make a turn for the worst, so I kept telling myself that this was some tv show, and hoped that if I repeated these words in my head that it would be true.
I followed him into the back. As the doors opened, cold air flooded over my exposed ankles, my face prickling.
It was quite dark in the back, and I watched as the doors swung shut, the little light that flooded in gone.
‘Keep following me,’ the man said as he shuffled across the floor.
We came to a large metal door with a bar across it.
It’s just a tv show. It’s just a tv show. It’s a tv show. No say it again, It’s just, not its a. It’s just a tv show, It’s just a tv show, it’s just a tv show.
It would all be fine, this was all just a tv show.
He pushed the bar on the door and it opened into a room much darker than the one we were in. He looked at me with his wide eyes and that’s when he lurched towards me, grabbing me.
I struggled as his grip on me became stronger, surely this was not allowed if it was a tv show.
He pulled me into the dark room, slamming the door shut behind us. The lights buzzed on, and he stood against the metal door, locking it. The smell was not pleasant. Rotting, decaying. The smell scraped against my nose.
‘You have to rid the store of the contamination.’
I still do believe this was some sort of tv show, at the end of the day they needed to push me to my very limits, because the edge of those limits would produce the most money.
I turned to see meat hooks suspended from the ceiling, the pork, or beef wrapped up in white plastic packaging that I could not quite see through.
Out of the bottom were tubes with green residue coating the inside, laying on the floor.
‘The others also clumsily walked into the red cars. They also caused contamination in this store.’
‘The others?’
The manager pointed to the bagged carcasses, and I felt the cold air twist around my arms and legs, and up my neck.
‘I need you to make the cure. The Doc, my boss requires everything to be sterilised,’ he said as he took a syringe from his pocket, the liquid inside as green as the outside of the shop.
This is when the belief that this was just a tv show, failed to sugar coat what was happening. The guy was about to inject me with some toxic waste looking stuff, and I daren’t think about what was actually wrapped up in those bags.
I moved backwards, the words trapped beneath the apple that was still very much lodged inside my throat, and growing ever bigger.
I bumped into the hanging carcasses. They are pigs, they are pigs, they are pigs, they are not humans.
‘Don’t struggle, or the needle will get stuck in your neck,’ he said as he walked towards me.
It has to have been a tv show, I mean come on this was all just completely unrealistic.
I managed to get some words out of my mouth, somewhat with difficulty. ‘What is the green stuff in the tubes, what is it for?’
‘It’s the cure, it’s to spray the produce, get rid of the contamination you bought indoors.’
It clicked in my mind, that if I had in fact become contaminated by that car, then I was still very much contaminated. I could touch him and he would then be as contaminated as the fruit.
‘If I touched the red cars, then I am still contaminated. If you use me to make the cure, then all you’ll be spraying the fruit with is more, even concentrated contamination. Best way is to get me out of the shop and throw away the bad apple.’
He stopped walking towards me for a moment and took a step back away from me.
‘Yes. You’re right. I must ring my boss to see if this is allowed.’
He pulled his cell phone from his pocket and dialled his boss’s number.
‘Doc, the customer is saying that if I make the cure from her, it will cause a mass contamination of the store, what do I do?’
He nodded as he listened to his boss, and placed the syringe back into his pocket.
‘He said you need to leave, and take the apple with you, it’s on the house.’
The man opened the door and gestured for me to follow him, and his briskly walked through the dimly lit back room, flinging the doors that lead into the store open.
‘Sarah, open the doors!’ he yelled as we walked down the milk aisle.
I heard the clicking as my freedom was granted.
‘Take the apple,’ the manager said as he pointed to the rotting fruit. ‘And leave.’
I happily obliged, picking up the furry apple and heading to the entrance, along with the milk and other things.
When I got home and took the apple out of the bag, it no longer had mould on it. Perhaps it rubbed off, although that doesn’t seem like a plausible answer.
I never did see a tv show, perhaps it is still in production, for when I passed the store the other day it was still seemingly in use, but now there is a very large sign saying, “DO NOT TOUCH RED CARS. IF YOU DO YOU WILL BE DENIED ENTRY TO THE STORE.”
I haven’t been inside since, as knowing me I would accidentally touch the cars, and perhaps this time I wouldn’t be so lucky as to escape. But sometimes I do crave the taste of the milk I got from that store. It seems to work better than the fairlife when I need some cookies and milk to calm my nerves.