Wait Until Your Mother Works Here

by writeorbust

The glass plates of the U-Scan at the local supermarket are covered with grime. The scanner I'm using looks as if a three year old has wiped a runny nose on it, and it's also covered with frozen peas and carrots. I flick them away in a fit of pique, hoping to hit the desultory bitch at the U-Scan monitor station. After scanning and bagging my items, I make a brief stop to let the girl know the scanners could use a good cleaning. She looks at me as if I’m speaking Lithuanian and goes back to doing nothing. Things will be a lot different when I’m working here, I vow to myself, laughing maniacally.

6S

writeorbust lives in Pennsylvania with a rotating cast of cats and family members. She writes short stories, poetry, and plays on the backs of envelopes. A few have made into print and production.