Allsorts of Trouble
There are only a few things left for me to live for. One of the most important ones is licorice allsorts. Neither hell nor highwater will keep me away from licorice allsorts if they are anywhere whatsoever within the vicinity. This is why I went to Loblaws today.
It is the only reason.
Sure I got dogfood and catfood and chicken boobs and mandarines and celery... but I was really really there for their sale on licorice allsorts in a tin. Limit 6 per customer. I went through the whole store. Up and down aisles. Finally I stopped 3 different clerks in my travels so that they could all look for the licorice allsorts. I figured getting three people to look for me was bound to be better than just one. I just hoped they weren't talking to each other (thereby realizing my trick of them all doing my bidding) before they actually found the licorice allsorts in a tin.
It turns out they didn't have them.
Now we people who are grieving are not very good with Emotions. I figure this goes on for at least a year. Our Emotions are right freakin' there: lolling about on the surface awaiting any obstacle they can leap up for and do what they were meant to do.
When the harried and hairy red-headed clerk confessed that they indeed did not have licorice allsorts in a tin he was obviously doing so with some trepidation. He brought the manager with him who was trying very hard to explain about shipments and international orders and etc. I figure they were concerned because I was beet red from having been in the cold (on account of my cold urticaria) and my Emotions were no longer lolling about but at attention awaiting the word. They had raised my eyebrows, drawn my chin out, and pursed my lips. They were ready. I figured that I had only two choices at this point: bursting into tears or going into a righteous rage. Neither choice seemed right somehow.
So I killed all of them with a pair of garden shears. The end.