October 24, 2004

Today, two colleagues and myself made the trek over to Costco to pick up some provisions for the Halloween luncheon/party we’re having at the office tomorrow. The list was short enough, only about ten items or so, and we managed to get done rather quickly. Of course, we had to stop and check out the tremendous variety of alcoholic beverages - just in case they had a good buy on some Cabo Wabo or the like.

Anyway, we’re in the checkout line - which, much to our chagrin, is pretty long. We’re clogging the aisles with carts, so it’s bumper-to-bumper in-store traffic. The store personnel opened another register and asked for the next in line - which were the folks in front us, then our little party of three. As we were moving over, the group behind us came barreling around to get in front and bump us.

Now, this group was three nasty little old women with long crooked noses and ghastly hairstyles. I kid you not - I was looking for their brooms, the witches that they were (with the attitude and cackling voices to match). I inquire, not very nicely I must say, as to what they were doing and state that there WAS a line ahead of them. Yeah, like that really mattered!

Long story short - the witches of Costco didn’t budge - took our spot. As fortune was on our side, yet another check-out lane opened, and we were beckoned by a bright, happy, smiling assistant who rung us up. As we were leaving, the witches of Costco were still in line, presumably stocking up on their potion ingredients (hahahaha!). I gave them a parting glare as I passed by them. Reckon that was just a smudgeon of sweet revenge. I should have pointed them in the direction of the nearest hardware store to stock up on brooms, too.

Oh well.

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