Brittany collected her non-fat raspberry jogurt, soy almond milk, and a Smart Balance spread of butter light into her basket. “You wouldn’t believe how obese I’m getting, Heather. I can barely fit into my spandex anymore.”
She juggled the basket on one arm, resting her iPhone between her ear and her up-pinched shoulder, and read the ingredients for granolas in the multi-grains aisle. But something Heather said got her into giggle fits. “Yep, sweetie, Kim Kardo … now there’s a cow. Kim –“
“Hey, watch it, toothpick,” some guy with a green tattoo on his forearm said from behind. “Look where you’re going, cellphone bitch.”
“Of all the nerve.” She scowled at him, gave him her best like-whatever look with moon-shaped eyes. Some toothpick, but compared to that lardo fatso, maybe she was a toothpick. “Heather, you wouldn’t believe this like total asshole who insulted me. What a loser.”
She picked her granola and settled into a conversation about Princess Catherine and the new baby – though Heather didn’t want to talk royal, she walked to talk Kardashian. Anything else to buy? No – she got it all. To the check-out counter.
No one in line. “Hey, Heather, what’s up this weekend?” she said, laying her items on the counter. Some cashier rattled them through the scanner. She and Heather made their plans for the weekend – bar hopping to Hooters, the beach on Saturday, dinner at Bono’s in Long Beach … and margaritas on Sunday.
“Ma’am,” the cashier said, “that’ll be $45.32.”
“Heather, I’ve had enough margaritas to last me to the end of the month,” Brittany said, swiping her card. She massaged her neck – boy, it sure was inconvenient, shopping while holding a conversation. “Let’s go to the martini bar on Second Street.”
She got her groceries and headed out the door. “Second Street’ll be great, Heather. What’ll you wear? I think I’ll –“ but just as she crossed the street, a bus hurtled toward her and flattened her dead.
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