"Yes Ash, walking was the best option. As curator of Earth, I love you for this."
I begin my journey and find early goings easier due to the gentle slope I have to walk down. My feet are having a lovely time, protected by their best friend, the shoe. My arms swing freely by my sides and a smile adorns my face in the knowledge that in no time at all my cupboards will once again be full and my coffee will be white if I so want it to be. The closer I get the more elated at such a prospect I become. I feel good about myself; my hair flows in the gentle breeze and I can feel the sun humming softly on the back of my neck. Groups of people walk past me and I imagine the look they give me is that of admiration of the task I am up taking for the goodness of my stomach. I see pretty girls and they see me. They all seems to give me a glance that suggests if it weren't so socially frowned upon to approach people and ask them straight up for sex, they would almost definitely have sex with me. The leather jacket I am doubtless wearing only adds to the growing feeling of, "Hey, I must look amazing today."
I can see the supermarket in the distance and my wallet seems to tap the side of my leg with the excitement that it will soon be required. My debit card sits proudly in one of the slots brimming with the pride of knowing it is going to become my best friend when it is required.
I arrive at the store. An old lady walks out of the revolving doors and she seems to be struggling with her bags. I offer her assistance and she thanks me with a look that says, "I'd effing love to be your gran."
Who wouldn't?
I'm inside and a sea of products and goods lies in front of me. I visit every isle to make sure I don't miss anything. I even throw in a cheeky DVD that I'll likely watch later in a continuation of this excellent mood in which I currently find myself in the middle of.
Trolley loaded and wallet at the ready I approach the check out. The woman behind the till is old, definitely too old for me, yet even she offers me the sort of smile that would suggest the leather jacket and skinny jeans look is destined to make a massive come back and my perseverance with it will soon prove fruitful. She asks if I want a hand with my packing, a comment which my mind can't help take for innuendo for which I punish it with images of such an innuendo happening with said elderly lady. My mind shuts up.
"No thanks, I'm fine," I reply.
"Have you got your own bags?" she says.
I do. I place my rucksack on the counter and unzip it. I can here the environment applauding me and I turn my head to the sky and offer the ozone layer a loyal salute. Respect.
Then everything goes wrong.
I look at the mass of shopping I have selected then back to my bag. I look back at the shopping...then back to my bag again. For one final dramatic moment I repeat the manoeuvre and the woman serving me finally gets the message. She sighs in disappointment when passing me some carrier bags and I here the applause of the environment turn into bitter tutting. I look up again, trying to convince it that the thing I had with carrier bags was just a fling and that it was it I really loved. It doesn't believe me.
I try my best to fit as much as I can in my now tiny looking rucksack but ultimately end up with six extra bags of now seemingly unnecessary stuff. My wallet now clings to the inside of my pocket; unwilling to come out and effectively be raped by my hand forcing itself inside and removing it's goods. My card is equally reluctant to be made use of, but instead of putting up a fight it now acts smug as it gets inserted into the machine and I type in four numbers which sink me closer to my overdraft. I pick up my bags and head for the door. The pull of my rucksack means my leather jacket is now struggling to stay in position and I don't look half as cool as I was kidding myself I did before. My arms are burdened with shopping and I have no option but to carry on and hope a lucky gust of wind helps reposition afore mentioned clothing. As I approach the door another elderly lady is passing by. She looks at me with hinting eyes and I see that she is struggling. I kick her in the face for daring to suggest I put down my own shopping to help her. Cars attempt to run me over as I cross the road and I feel the first drip of sweat falling from my brow. The bags are already digging into my fingers as I leave the car park. It's raining. How the hell is it raining when only moments ago is was lovely, humming sunshine? My glasses soon become useless head adornments that only help to make me look more of a geek than normal without offering their usual visual aid. The pretty girls I saw before now look away with disgust in a way that says if it weren't so socially frowned upon to approach people and straight up ask for sex they would ring the police and I'd spend several years in jail. They also suggest I have some form of STI.
The groups of people who I earlier got on so well with now gang up against me, sniggering and gossiping about how stupid I was to pass down the offer of a lift just because I thought walking was the better option.
"Ha! What idiot walks?" I imagine they say, despite the fact they too are walking. I wish I was a group of people. I wish I could gossip.
The wind is in my face, the traffic is angry, birds aim their excrement purposely towards my head. My leather jacket is now more of a leather cape with only the last slither of my arms holding it in place. My skinny jeans have been gradually falling down for the past ten minutes but my enormous amount of stupid, unwanted, horrible tasting shopping means I can do nothing about it.
The gentle slope I walked down before is now Mount Everest. I can't climb Everest even without shopping!
I get back in to my house. I made it. I did it. I'm a hero. Many will worship me.
I unpack my shopping, apologising for all the nasty things I said about it.
I forgot to get any bread.
I end my own life.