Eureka

Well, my day was going to crap. I honestly had good intentions for today, a plan. I would get up at 7, hit snooze until 7:30, and then sit at my computer and stare at the screen. That’s right, I’m a writer, so being frustrated all the time is part of the gig. Anyway, I am writing a murder mystery. I just can’t figure out the ending and how everything will come together.

So my craptastic day started with me waking up at 6:34. Rough night, so I knew there was no hope of getting back to sleep. After lugging myself out of bed, I went to go make myself breakfast but there was no milk. Great. What is cereal without milk? I sigh, now I have to run to the store to get milk for my breakfast, and being as stubborn as I am, there would be no breakfast without milk. Grabbing my coat, I head out the door towards my new adventure, yay.

So I’m now at the store, ok, and I go to the dairy section all the way at the back of the store. Unlike most people who would’ve stopped to buy something else that they vaguely need, I am in no mood to partake in the capitalistic strategies that make up grocery layouts. I am hungry. One good thing did happen though, they had 2% on sale.

Heading to the lines that were full of elderly morning-ers, I impatiently wait. So here I am, finally next and putting my things on the belt when this d-bag in front of me decides to make his problem everyone else's by pulling out a gun; man, isn't my morning great?

"Get on the ground," he yells at the cashier, not even stopping to look at me or any other customers, "and hand over the dough."

The poor kid at the register, tired and from what I can see, probably stoned, turns, and looks the man dead in the eye. Just sighing he says, "Dude, really? It's 2019, there is most likely $15 max in here."

The man, obviously unhappy and surprised by this answer, doesn't know what to do now. His plan has been destroyed by changing consumer practices and a kid who is as high as a skyscraper. Mustering up all his leftover pride while still pointing the gun at the cashier, he says, "Look, I'm going to take my stuff and go..."

You know, I'm not one to judge, but looking at this guy's stuff he's buying, really stealing, I'm so done. All he has is frosted loft cookies. F-ing cookies. The audacity. And all while staring at these cookies, I get an idea for the end of my book.

Not wanting to let this idea go, I push past the man, swatting his gun away, take the kid's scanner, scan my gallon of 2% milk, pay with cash, and leave. And that, ladies and gentleman, is how I finished my book and had the most mediocre breakfast I've ever had.