No grapes

Okay, so I'm at Albertsons after work, looking for those little personal watermelons, because I can actually walk one of those home without breaking my back.  Oh, and they didn't have any kind of watermelon at all the other day; not even the cut up pieces in the plastic tub thingies.  I had been fairly perturbed about that at the time, so I was glad to see all kinds of watermelon this time.

HOWEVER...

I'm also looking for some grapes, but I can't find any grape hides, grape hairs, or any traces of grape at all, high or low, beneath, betwixt or behind anything or anywhere.  And since I'm pretty much always carrying on a non stop conversation with myself, my opinion of the situation just tumbled out of my mouth hole, without any kind of real conscious thought or decision... like blinking, or breathing, or sucking back a snot.  You know.  What happens when the primitive part of your brain buried underneath the homo habilus australopithecus and crocodile parts kicks in.  Behold, ye troglodytes.  The R-complex or whatever.

What I said was something like this:

"What, no grapes?  What the fuck (pardon my french)?   The other day it's no watermelons, and today it's no grapes.  What kind of chickenshit (scuse my portuguese) outfit are these guys running?"

Then I found the grapes and...

...made away with me to the checkout counter.

...propelled myself toward the checkout counter.

...budged myself in the direction of the checkout counter.

...sauntered aggrandizingly over to the checkout counter.

...inflicted myself upon the checkout counter.

Any of those descriptions will do.

The guy is scanning my items and typing them in, shwoop, shwoop, beep beep beep, chika-chaka DONE, chingle changle ching-a-ling, there's my change, I'm through here, and then the checkout guy says:

"I gave you the 89 cents a pound price for those grapes" (they were white grapes, by the way) "because we're out of the red grapes.  Since you were looking for the red grapes.  So I just gave you the price for the red grapes."

? thought I. What the heck was he talking about?  My befuddlement was pretty much total, so I said, "Uhhhhhhh..." for a while.

THEN I UNDERSTOOD.  The checkout guy had HEARD me.  He'd heard my private discourse over by the uh... over in the... what the heck is that section called... the produce aisle!  He'd heard me bitching about the watermelons and grapes!  He'd heard me say the chickenshit outfit thing!  He thought that I'd decided to settle for the white grapes because they were out of red grapes!  What kind of random off the wall out of the blue corntastic craptacular cheese-o-matical hyperbole of serendipity had just squeezed itself into existence out of the infinite and ever collapsing cloud of fluctuating wave forms comprising the whatchamacallit of  quantum probability? 

I fully expected right then for the Earth to spontaneously transform into a quagma of strangelets and swallow itself up into a false vacuum of non existence.  Right now, at this very minute, I still can't quite believe that hasn't happened yet.