Buckley stole something every time he was at the supermarket. It was always something very small, as to not raise a huge fuss should he be caught. He never had been. Today though, as he stood frozen in the bulk food section and stared into space, the thought of the culmination of all the shitty things in his life unbelievably weaving together this week convinced him that he was going to walk out of this place with that motherfucking barrel of sour gummy worms. He lifted his head at the thought and looked around with instant guilt, as if he had already put the giant receptacle in his cargo pants. The sharp feeling of guilt was soon overridden by an adrenaline shot of excitement. A grin beat its way through the corners of his mouth, as he found himself the only patron in the bulk foods section of the Baltimore SuperSave on this lonely, overcast Tuesday afternoon.
He strode slowly amongst the giant barrels filled with raw almonds and multiple varieties of trail mix, and whistled softly. A spring in his step that hadn’t been there a moment before evolved into a nonchalant skip as he passed a mound of yogurt-covered peanuts big enough to bury a large dog or prepubescent human, should they run out of yogurt-covered peanuts in the wild, and die of starvation. His target was a few feet in front of him now as he jubilantly bobbed down the aisle. He could see the strips of neon reflecting off of the hinged plastic door atop the barrel that sealed their freshness. The sight of it produced an involuntary chuckle, and a funny sound he couldn’t remember ever making before. That, of course, almost led to an outburst of laughter. He turned around, stifling a display of joy he hadn’t performed in years to a respectable display of quiet snorts and a few tears quickly wiped away. A couple of deep breaths later, he looked up, and surveyed the room. Buckley noticed how many of the barrels had their plastic lids left open, and pictured the fucking savages scavenging their pilfer, then moving on, leaving other victims of life’s unfreshness in the wake of their selfish and careless destinies. The further thought of giant locusts descending upon all of the chocolate-covered mini-pretzels momentarily killed the vibe he had going. He quickly spun around, and the sight of his colorful bounty sparked awake a feeling of terrible excitement.
“This must be what bank robbers feel like right before,” he thought. He approached the barrel right beside the sour gummy worms, and appeared to only have an interest in the unpopped popcorn kernels within, as a criminal mastermind assuredly would so do. Wait a minute. How was he going to do this? Was he going to just roll the giant cask right out the front door? The back? He’d be caught by someone of some authority before he even reached the sanitary napkin aisle. It was a place he’d experienced embarrassment before in another life. His serious girlfriend of a decade before would conveniently forget to purchase such things, whisking Buckley away during busy public hours to retrieve them for her, only to learn after the relationship had danced its death rattle, that she took regular masochistic pleasure by taking him from his comfort zone, and throwing him into bonfires of embarrassment. Wouldn’t it be such a fitting ending for him to be apprehended for grand theft children’s candy amongst rows and rows of tampons and maxi-pads he no longer had any use for? He pictured the witch reading the headline and throwing back her beautiful curly black hair, cackling wildly with her wicked new family.
No. He needed a plan. He decided to stop being the bulk-food-creeper, and continued with his daily shopping in the guise of a man simply shopping. Simply shopping and not creating numerous devious schemes. But why not devise? It was no crime, just thinking thoughts. No acts yet were committed. He turned into the soda and water aisle, and saw an elderly woman leaned up against a cart with an indifferent look on her face as she stared at the endless varieties of sparkling water. What underhanded thoughts swarmed under that rose colored bandanna and white hair? What crimes was she guilty of in this life? Maybe she was a master thief too. Maybe she’d murdered. Killed multiply maybe, Buckley thought as he put three 2-liters of generic diet cola into his cart. Maybe she’d been one of those insane mothers that rolled her station wagon full of 3 loved, yet unwanted children into the lake. Maybe she’d done such a thing, and spent the bulk of her life in prison, only to be released 40 years later because of overcrowding and good behavior. And now here she was, facing another decision amongst a body of water. Maybe this decision was easier. Maybe not.
She struggled as she attempted to put a case of lemon-flavored sparkling water into her cart, and Buckley rushed over to assist. They managed to seat the water into the cart, when the old woman thanked him quickly and without a smile. She seemed annoyed that she had been assisted by such a petty thief and disgraced tampon buyer of old, and the look she gave him as she moved on as briskly as she could shook Buckley to his core. Those murderous eyes. Was that the look she gave her children as they pounded on the rear window of a sinking car? Oh yes, he thought. It was surely the look she gave other inmates as she shivved them to death in the yard. Buckley tried to shake off the guilt of his act of kindness as he walked back to the comfort of his shopping cart. He closed his eyes and imagined the tart and fruity taste of sour gummy worms as he threw up handfuls of them in his bathtub, and was once again on to the task at hand. His quest was a crime, yes, but an innocent one. He couldn’t allow himself to be caught up with the real villains and cutthroats his criminal actions would assuredly attract. Buckley made a mental note to be wary to avoid such dangerous child killers and shivvers in the future, and made his way to the dairy section.
Oh, cottage cheese. I love you ever so, Buckley thought as he parked his cart in front of the brightly lit white containers. He scorned for a second at the columns of sour cream. How dare they share similar receptacles to wonderful wonderful cottage cheese. IMPOSTERS! BLAND YET TART DECIEVERS! Nasty assed sour cream should be in the nacho aisle. Then, Buckley had a thought of glorious cottage cheese atop a giant mound of cheesy nachos, and made a mental note to try such a thing in the future. A sour gummy worm future, hopefully. Buckley shoved aside a few containers of sour cream as to not sully his cottage cheese shopping experience. He finally decided on a tub of 2% small curd, and one of fat free large curd. Later, he would make two tubs of half and half, and smiled at the prospect of the naked chore. Maybe he’d drop a naughty dollop down below. His giggle continued until he turned into the dreaded soup aisle. It was a place Buckley hated so. How many unfortunate soup instances has he had in his lifetime. Too many to count. There was the Cleveland Bisque Episode. Then there was the Future to Fictional In-Laws Cream of Broccoli Disaster that ultimately was the catalyst of his breakup with Whatshername Succubus Tampon Pressurer.
Buckley had to always buy 3 cans of soup. All he needed during the week was two, but there had to be a safe extra; just in case. The emergency soups had been stored in the only cupboard in his house that required a lock. He’d unlock the door, and carefully place the worry-free can with hundreds of its brothers and sisters. A precious cache of safe, non-disaster soup. Thankfully, he hadn’t needed to dip into his reserves that often, but recently the Great Tomato Boilover was traumatic enough to almost break the lock when he frantically couldn’t find his key. Thankfully he did, yet he had still not cleaned up the mess of that disaster. It looked like a tiny murder had occurred on Buckley’s stovetop. He would one day, but he kept it as penance to himself that he shouldn’t live so recklessly.
At this thought, he thought about his new life as a master thief, and thought twice about a life of crime. He had never been one to life dangerously. Was a barrel of sour gummy worms worth a life of incarceration? He then thought of prison. How would it change him? Would he be what they called, “a bitch”? Perhaps. He had a long documented history of “bitchery” that sullied his past. Then Buckley looked up at the dreaded soup aisle. This sight usually brought forth a most undiluted tincture of fear from his bitchery depths. Dreaded soup, so hateful and deviously delicious. But now, on this red-letter day of masterminding the perfect crime, Buckley felt no fear. No, he would not be “The Bitch”. He would be revered. A kingpin amongst murderers and rapists and child abductors. Buckley then had a vision of himself playing Uno in the common area. Convicted yes-men were bringing him things, such as drinks and chips. Two large henchmen towered behind him, arms akimbo. A rival inmate from another cell block entered the room, and Buckley simply had to motion his head towards the villain, and the yes-men swarmed him, creating a cartoon-like pile of limbs and dust and blood. Buckley smiled in the center of the soup aisle, eyes closed, dreaming of The Kingpin of Crime with a tattoo of sour gummy worms on his neck.
“Pardon me,” a rickety voice interrupted the daydream. It was The Child Killer. She had snuck up behind Buckley. She even was so brazen as to touch his shoulder as she did so. All he could reply with was a tiny gasp, and he dragged himself and his cart flush against a wall of soup. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her, as fear began trickling into the cracks of his dam of self-confidence. Buckley quickly grabbed the first three cans of soup he could find, and whipped his cart away from this terrible place. The Witch. The Vile Haggard Woman probably lived in the stupid soup aisle. Of course, he thought. That’s where the child-killers of the world were the strongest, in the goddamned soup aisles of the world. Buckley pushed his cart all of the way to the end of the large room and tried to catch his breath amongst the frozen foods. It was nice and cool here. He looked up at towers boxes with amazing pictures of different varieties of pizza on them, and started to feel normal again. He looked down into his cart, and saw three cans of split pea, the worst, most terrible soup of them all. Buckley dropped to his knees and started to cry.
Buckley opened his tearful eyes and kept sobbing. His eyes burned and tears fell into the opened hands on his lap.
Another hand dropped onto his shoulder, and Buckley fell to his backside in fear.
“Oh my goodness! Sir, I’m so sorry. I shouldn’t have startled you! Are you okay?” The woman wearing a SuperSave apron had kind eyes. Buckley was immediately embarrassed, yet still instinctively cowered against the frozen pizzas like a wounded raccoon.
“Sir, should I call someone?” the concerned employee asked.
“What?” Buckley soon realized his current position, and how he must have looked to the SuperSave Angel that held her hand out before him. “Oh, dear me,” he responded. He attempted to rise, but his hand slipped upon the condensation of the freezer door, and fell with a thump once again to his backside.
“Oh no! Here, let me help you,” the Angel said. He couldn’t help but notice her touch was kind, yet firm enough to help Buckley get to his feet. He dusted himself off and rubbed the wet from his face.
“Here,” she said. She magically produced a tissue from her apron pocket and offered it to him. It may as well had been a slice of bread offered to a starving leper, and Buckley took the offering as such. He cradled it in his hand, and blew his nose into the soft aloe-plied treasure. He attempted to offer it back, and she rightfully shied away. He realized what he had done, and another wave of embarrassment washed over him.
“Oh, I’m so sorry. He put the tissue into his pocket and hung his head in shame. “Thank you very much.”
“Are you alright?”
“Oh, yes. I am now. It’s just been a very…trying time today. Actually more than just today, but it seemed to hit me all at once. That sounds stupid.”
“Oh, no no. That doesn’t sound stupid at all. It sounds…” She searched for the right word. A moment of brief silence, and Buckley looked up into hazel eyes that seemed to search for something deep within what was assuredly an extensive lexicon of unsurmountable genius.
“…normal.” She finished. She cocked her head to the side, and Buckley sighed relief.
“I’ve never been accused of THAT before,” he replied. It seemed the right thing to say, as she responded with a genuine chuckle that made Buckley weak in the knees. His eyes threatened to well up again at the sound of a seraph’s glee, and turned away towards his cart before he became a blubbering mess again.
“Wait,” her voice stopping every bit of him dead. She knew. About everything. About the sour gummy worms. About his past with women’s sanitary applicators. About the security of a closet filled with emergency soup. Oh no! The split pea! She saw the 3 cans of split pea, and knew him for the wretch that he wa-
“Here,” she said. She handed him a small thick book of coupons. “Some of these you can’t use all at once, but it really adds up in the long run, y’know?” Buckley looked at the small flip-book in his hand and managed a small “thank you”. He stared at the heavenly savings too good for him, and she touched the side of his arm. “Well…I’m glad to help. Just let me know I can do anything else to help you with your SuperSave experience.” She started to walk away. Buckley put his hand to the place on his arm where she touched him, and now it was his turn to say-
“Wait.” She stopped and turned towards him with a smile. “Do you-“ he started. He stood for a bit and thought. This is what he needed! An ally! A collaborator in his quest, on the inside! He had to be careful, though. She already assuredly saw him as an emotional maniacal sex-fiend. He would win her confidence-
“Do I what?” she asked hesitantly.
“I do apologize,” Buckley started, “My mind seems to wander off sometimes and drags me along.” She chuckled again. It was the best sound Buckley thinks he’d ever heard. He glanced at her nametag. “Amy. It seems to me, at this moment, in your act of kindness, that I should treat myself more kindly that I have been doing so in recent times. I think I deserve a treat. I have a question about an item in this store that you might be able to help me with.”
“Shoot!” She replied with genuine glee.
“Would you accompany me to the bulk food section?”
“Sure!” Glee once again.
“Know where glee leads, yeah?” A whisper within Buckley asked.
“Oh, you shut up now,” he responded.
“Pardon?”
Buckley quickly dismissed what the girl had overheard, and picked up the pace a step. She seemed to say something, but alas, he did not hear. OH NO! Would such a Venus de Milo grant him a boon of repeating herself to one such as low as he? He must dare. HE MUS-
“I’m sorry, what was that you were saying?” Buckley had done an about-face to give her his full and undivided attention, still keeping up his pace in a backwards jaunt. “
“LOOK OUT!”
OH NO! HE’D ANGERED HER! WHY WAS SHE YELLING? HE WAS SURE SHE WASN’T YELLING JUST A MOMEN-
It was comfortably brisk on the water that day. There was a slight breeze that nibbled crisply on exposed flesh. Buckley closed his eyes and breathed in the cool fresh air. He opened his eyes and looked at the shoreline. His pace was slow, but steady, as he drifted down river. He must have dozed for a bit, because now he was facing stern-side. That was good, he thought. He needed to conserve his strength, as it was a long journey to…
Oh, it didn’t matter where. Not right now. Right now the journey was the thing. He looked down to see himself waist deep in sour gummy worms. He grabbed onto the sides of the barrel that floated downstream and could hardly contain his excitement. MY BOOTY! HOW COULD I FORGET IT?! Buckley put his hands into the sweet fluff and brought handfuls up to rub them lovingly on his face. He could practically taste the tart sweetness from the artificial fruity sugar aroma as the worms stuck to his face for a moment before peeling off and dropping back into the barrel. One particularly orange and green one stuck to his forehead, and Buckley wore it proudly.
Okay, back to work. Buckley rocked back and forth and around and managed to get himself facing bow. All he could see ahead of him was more river. Things were good. Clear skies overhead and beyond. His pace was good.
“Moving right along,” he said to himself. He looked down at his soft neon treasure and let the excitement take hold of him for a moment. “Moving right the fuck along!” He threw a red and purple worm into the air, and caught the red side in his mouth. He let the rest dangle out as he savored the wonderful strawberry sourness for a moment. Then he slurped in the purple and let the grape sail him all the way to Jubilation.
He slammed his right hand into the worms and rummaged around until he felt something paperish. He got a nice grip onto it, and ripped it from the gummy unknown. His map was an extremely well detailed straight blue line that led to a giant red X. He figured he was about ¾ to the X now. How he figured that, he couldn’t be sure, but for some reason he felt quite sure. He slammed the map back down into the worms, and rummaged even deeper for something else. Buckley instinctually stuck out his tongue as he searched frantically for… for……..THERE! He jerked his hands from the pile with a motion that sent quite a few sour worms overboard. He dusted sugar from his pirate hat and smiled at the skull and crossworms on its front. He dipped the hat into the worms at the front of his waist and slammed it onto his head. The heaviness of the hat was empowering. Sour gummy worms hung from its brim, and Buckley’s line of sight above the horizon was a stringy neon rainbow.
Wait. Something was missing. Oh yes! Buckley shoved his hands even deeper into the foam candy deep, and came up with an eye-patch. He filled that as well, and put it on his left eye, worms protruding out from its edges. Now, he was complete. He drifted along, Buckbeard the Worm, in his grand frigate to his ultimate destiny.
After quite a bit of garbled mouthful pirate calls later, something familiar about his surroundings put him on full alert. He quickly chewed on the candy in his mouth, dropping wet pieces back into the barrel. Something there in the distance. Something big, and grey. Buckley rummaged around in the wormily depths once more and came up with a giant telescopic spyglass. He polished the sugar from both ends of it with his sleeve, and extended the spyglass as far as it would go. He leaned his elbows on the rim of the barrel, and took a look.
The grey was concrete. A giant open expanse of concrete, with a railing on its edge. A group of people stood behind the railing and pointed at things.
“An observation deck,” Buckley said without thinking. He lowered the spyglass, and the colors of the people’s clothing made them look like sour gummy worms in the distance. He picked up two worms from his waist, and wiggled them in front of his view, as if they were the people on the giant concrete deck.
“OOH! Looky there!” he mimicked with a pretend people-worm.
“Oh yes, I see! That’s a good observation!” the other gummy-person said.
“We’re good observers!”
“Oh yes, the best! We’re the best observers on the observation deck!”
Buckley mushed the two together and made kissy, then fart noises and popped the two good observers into his mouth.
“YUM YUM YUM!” A few moments passed, and Buckley looked again into the viewer. He was closer this time and could make out the deck in more detail. Something super familiar about all of this (and an incredible sugar high) raised the hairs on the back of his neck. A sudden crisp breeze put his gooseflesh on high alert, as a feeling of absolute dread followed.
“Oh no,” he muttered. There was a couple on the deck arguing. He waited a few moments to catch his breath, and to get a better look at the couple, but he knew deep down in his large bucket of foamy candy happiness that there was no treasure to be found at a giant red X scrawled on a crumpled map somewhere near his knees. He looked into the glass again, and found the couple. The woman was attractive, and angry. He always kind of liked when she was angry. She was so sexy when she was angry, and he had come to terms early in their relationship that he would set forth the anger sometimes to please himself, despite the consequences. This time, though, was different. It was the worst argument they ever had. Buckley remembered now.
“Niagra fucking falls,” Buckley said with ire. Now he wished his vessel had a full arsenal of cannons and greek fire to take down the deck and be done with it forever, but all he had was his spyglass, and his worms. He shoved a handful of them into his mouth, and looked again. There she was, emptying both barrels into him, and him standing there with his hands in his pockets, shamed like a beaten dog. Buckley remembered he had simply mentioned his annoyance at her picking the honeymoon capitol of the universe as a vacation destination, after his two already failed attempts at proposal. He saw her mouth “As if I’d marry a piece of shit loser like you,” and heard the voice in his head.
But now, it was different. It wasn’t quite her voice, was it? That distinct shrill Cry of the Succubus that he would remember even after he was waist deep in real worms was not the voice he heard. He squinted into the spyglass as if it would help him focus, and it indeed showed him that the woman he was arguing with in the distance was not the masochistic queen of the forced tampon purchase twice-removed pseudo-fiancée sexy angry b-word that would haunt him for eternity. It was someone else. Someone nice. Someone he hadn’t heard talk to him in a way that would have him contemplate jumping off a bridge as he stood in his pajama pants and trenchcoat at an ungodly hour waiting to pay for tampons and a bag of dill-flavored potato chips. This woman yelling and pointing at him wore a green SuperSave apron. Buckley squinted even harder. The nametag on the apron read “Angel”, quotation marks and all. He lowered the spyglass.
“You’re no angel,” he said, “you’re all the same.” Buckley threw the spyglass with all his might at the observation deck, and it splashed ahead of him, far from the intended target. The sound of rushing water filled his senses now. The falls. Of course. OF COURSE! This was his Giant Red X! This was the treasure that he so desperately sought. It would be different now! The falls would change everything! He gathered speed as he gained closer to the edge, and saw the vast wilderness that sprawled beyond the swirling mist. He grabbed two great handfuls of candy and shoved them into his mouth and yelled “GARRRR!” as the falls took hi-
“Garr!” Buckley yelled. His vision slowly refocused as the fluorescent lights poured painfully into the back of his eyes. He was on his back, and a group of people were looking remorsefully down at him, like a thirsty village looking into a dead well. The polite girl that he thought he knew as pure and good knelt by his side, showing what seemed to be genuine concern. Buckley’s vision sharpened a bit more, and saw that her nametag read “BECCA”, and his stomach plummeted down the falls. What an atrocity. He should have known a name as repulsive as “short for Rebecca” would bring forth the wolf in sheep’s clothing. Her close friends probably even call her Reba. Gag.
The crowd reeled as Buckley gagged, thinking communally that a geyser of vomit was sure to follow. Reba leaned back as well. Then Buckley sat up. The crowd dispersed a bit, and the few rubberneckers left looked quite bored of the situation. The Devil in Angel’s apron got to her feet, and extended a hand to help Buckley up. He refused this helpful boon, and sprung to his feet with surprising agility.
“Are you alright? That was quite a fall you too-“
“Yes, thank you. I’m just peachy keen fine. Thank you for all of your help.” He started to walk away.
“But, wait. Are you sure? Didn’t you need my help with something?”
Buckley continued to walk away. “No, thank you, you’ve done quite enough for me already,” his pace gaining like a waterfall’s current. “You’re all the same,” he said defiantly beyond Reba’s earshot, and continued like a man possessed to the bakery.