The other day I went in to IGA to buy some protein for the muscles I am working on in my neck. I figured 24 eggs, a kilo of tuna, 45 dollars worth of chicken thighs and some soy milk would do the trick. I want a really muscly neck as I feel it will help me if I ever go to the movies, a concert or am on a jury, and a tall guy with curly hair sits in front of me. With a strong neck I will easily be able to crane my head to one side (like a crane) for extended periods of time without getting a nervous spasm or a sweaty back. I haven't got any exercises planned but feel if I swallow the food really slowly the protein will understand that I want it to congregate in my neck. It's basically a fool proof plan and I'm surprised I hadn't thought of it sooner.
While sniffing for 'tein or 'pro pro' in the dusty aisles I saw two supermarket employees stacking the shelves with yoghurt and cheese. One was in his mid thirties and had a sweet gold chain, the other was about sixteen. They were talking about Nissan Skylines and date rape and how "yesterday there was fricken 100 palets to unload and I was all by meself because Allan was meant to come in but he's in Bali being slack and they had to be friggen joking if they thought I could get through all by meself".
Their conversation was interrupted by an old lady with amazingly floppy canteen-lady arms. She was leaning over the ice-cream freezer with a look of hatred. "I'm not buying Peter's ice-cream anymore!" she yelled at the shelf stackers. "It tastes horrible since THEY SOLD OUT!" And she looked at the two employees as if she'd made a point that would forever change the sale of ice-cream in Western Australia. This was a momentous occasion. She'd taken the fight right up to two power makers! Two guys in decision making positions. I mean, they control what goes in the freezer - they're practically gate keepers. She hadn't nancied about with 'excuse me sir', no way, she'd got up there and told them what the whole bloody world had been thinking! The revolution had begun, she drawn a line with her kumfs and no prick was game enough to cross it. Bloody Peter's - they'd be quaking in their horrible ice-cream boots!
The two shelf stackers didn't say a word. They probably knew they'd been bested. There was a new regime in town and it didn't like bloody Peter's sellout ice-cream or the price of meat these days. It did however like Mr Arnott's milk arrowroot biscuits and aspro.
I really wanted to get to the ice-cream freezer but knew she'd be there all day.