The cigar may have been tightly rolled up in its plastic and secured neatly in his breast pocket, but the rich aroma of it still managed to waft up to his nose.
Benjamin could not wait to tear off that wrapper, plop onto the living room recliner cozily molded to his behind, and get that thing lit up. It was to be his savior from a long hard day.
He sighs as he is about to roll up the driveway. Ben Jr. (or Benny, when he is feeling affectionate with his boy) has left his bicycle there once again.
“Dang kid,” He mutters, “Never puts it away no matter what I tell him.”
After he putters out, throws the bike on the grass, and finishes pulling up, he drags his worn self into the front door, and is greeted by a noisy scene.
Lola (or “Lolita” , when he is in good spirits with his wife), stands at the kitchen sink hurriedly peeling deformed potatoes while (as always) leaving the water running the whole time she is doing this.
The radio is on full blast (A LOUD Mariachi tune), and little Bethy sits in her high chair, alternating between screams of “Mommaaa!!!” and sucklings of her chubby thumb (which irks the hell out of her daddy).
“Oh Honey, you’re home. Gosh, I hate to tell you this…”
‘Oh, no,” Ben thinks, ‘What now…’
“Uhh…I sorta kinda forgot the Shake ‘n Bake…you know…for the chicken. And well, I would make it plain, but you know how Benny just HATES it that way…”
The whole while his wife is talking, Ben just stares at the tiny dollops of caramel-y chocolate at the corners of her mouth.
‘Does she not ever lay off those Rolos?’ He asks himself, almost bewildered.
“Oh, I know you are tired, but can you run to the store and get a box?”
“Lola, I just got home…” This sentence comes out with no fight to it…he knows she’ll have the last punch.
“You KNOW I would…but I’ve already started dinner. And Bethy here has been so clingy today...so please?"
That pleading green twinkle in her eyes is just too much…damn her.
“Alright, alright,” He sighs and scratches at his balding head.
“Thank you, sweetie,” Lola gives him a chocolaty tasting peck on the mouth. “Oh, and grab some milk and butter, too...if you don’t mind.”
“Yeah,” Ben mutters.
“Oh, and honey…I know you look forward to your after-work smoke, “ Lola says this while disapprovingly eyeing the stogie sticking out of her hubby’s shirt pocket. “But maybe you can smoke out on the porch today? It really does stink up the living room. Either that or get some air deodorizer or something.”
At this point, Ben wants to cry…seriously just shrivel up and cry like a baby. He just lets out a weak chuckle, however, and says, “Okay…I’m going now.”
*********************************************************************************
As he arrives at the Eat More, Pay Less market, he lets out a frazzled breath.
“Can’t get any breaks…can’t enjoy a moment’s peace… I just want to enjoy my smoke…” He grumbles.
As soon as he gets out of his car, he shakes his head at a stick thin old man who quickly shoves his
shopping cart in between parked cars before getting into his vehicle.
“Damn…the cart return is a few yards away, man…talk about LA-zee.”
“Screw you.” The man says in response, flipping Ben the bird.
He actually didn’t mean to say this out loud…but he does this sometimes. Bad habit of his.
Ben huffs into the store and grumpily grabs a squeaky, unbalanced cart, set to get this pain in the rear done with.
He throws the butter in. Bumps into a cart. He throws the milk in next. Bumps into another cart. He finally finds the Shake ‘n Bake aisle and heads in.
Ben quickly grabs Shake ‘n Bake Original flavor, but not before spotting a box of Summer’s Eve Feminine Cleansing cloths, and a small container of blueberry yogurt sitting amidst the boxed mixes.
“What the hell is wrong with people?!” He exclaims, hoping that a stock person would
soon spot these misfit products.
Ben rushes his cart to the express checkout lane, almost sideswiping a young teenaged boy. But he didn’t care. As long as he left here within the next few minutes, he didn’t care.
He fidgets impatiently as a woman empties half the contents of her purse onto the counter, trying to look for exact change.
‘Of course, she could have done this the whole time she was standing here…’ Ben rants mentally.
The cashier, a middle aged man named Nicholas, gives Ben a toothy grin as begins to scan.
“Hi there…find everything alright?” Nicholas asks.
“Good, good. “ Ben answers indifferently.
“Shake ‘n Bake. Ain’t that something. “ Nicholas remarks as he swiftly scans the last of Ben’s items, and gently arranges them in a plastic bag. “ Wife used to make this all the time.”
“Oh, really. Did she used to overcook it, too, leaving you to taste burnt pan?” Ben asks sarcastically, letting out a snort.
“Umm…once in a while. But I even miss the burnt pan taste.” Nicholas says with a sad smile. “She’s up with the angels now. Been two years.”
“Uh…Oh, I’m sorry.” Ben stammers, feeling himself turn beet red and a bit ashamed.
“Oh, don’t be.” Nicholas waves his hand dismissively, offering Ben another toothy grin.
“Just looking at this box brought back a nice memory.”
Not really knowing what to say, Ben grins back.
“Well, sir, anything else before I ring you up?” Nicholas asks cheerfully.
“Ummm…actually yes.” Ben turns around and grabs two products from the convenience items near the checkout.
He begins whistling (a semi-happy tune) as he watches Nicholas swipe a pineapple scented air freshener and a roll of Rolos across the scanner.
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