Master Procrastinator

It’s Saturday and Dewie had to work. My only job today was to go to Publix to restock our fruit bowl and pick up some bread. With it being cloudy and uninspiring, I laid around in my pajamas for most of the day. Before I knew it, it was nearly four and I hadn’t even brushed my hair, much less made it to the grocery store. Knowing I had to get this one little errand done before Dewie got home, I hurriedly dressed and took off for the store. Publix is only about a mile and half from my house. If I work efficiently, I could shop, put it away and cook dinner before 6. Alas, it wasn’t meant to be.

I hadn’t been in the store 5 minutes before I hear someone call my name. I turn around and see Devon. Devon is in his early twenties, of Indian descent, and has a tone to his voice that reminds me of a cartoon villain. He tries desperately to be helpful, but once filtered through his developmentally disabled brain, his good intentions are sometimes annoying.

 “Hey Molly. 755-4386. Area code 386.”

“Hey Devon. What ya been up to?”

“How come your phone number don’t work anymore?”

“I haven’t had that phone number in 5 years.” His lips curl up into a mischievous grin. The walking yellow pages already know the answer to his next question.

“What’s your new number?”

“Can’t tell you. It’s top secret. Did you wander over here by yourself or is your mom here?”

“She’s here. You wanna drive me home instead?”

“Devon if you get in my car, I’m going to take you to the zoo to live with the monkeys.”

I start to walk toward the produce section. Devon follows, his laugh sounding like a whispered witch cackle. “You still at the workshop?”

“Have you seen me at the workshop? Did you think I was just really good at hiding?”

“No.” he whispers his witchy laugh again. “Maybe you’ve been under your desk.” Now he’s cracking himself up. I can hear the timer counting down in my head. I’m going to have to cook something easy when I get home. I’m running out of time. Devon looks at me, all dancing eyes and white teeth. “Do you have Wendy’s phone number?” Wendy is my best friend. We worked at the workshop together.

“Nope. Wendy doesn’t have a phone. If you want to talk to her you have to send smoke signals.” I pause for the giggle. “Say Devon… It would really help me out a lot of you could pick me out two of the prettiest green apples you can find.”

“Ok. I’ll find some with no bruises or red parts.”

“Awesome. You da man, Devon.” Devon’s giggle fades into the background as I head over to the bananas. As I’m reaching for the greenest ones on the shelf I feel someone walking up to me.

“Hey. How are you?” I can’t place her. She’s familiar, though. I’m sure I know who she is.

 “Hey! Good. Just picking up a few things.”

“Yeah, me too. How’s the flea epidemic?” Ahhh. The tech from the vet’s office.

“Better. Still more scratching going on than I’d like.”

“Yeah, it sometimes takes time to get rid of them when they get real bad like that. I spend nearly $500 treating all my animals. They’re really bad this year.” I tried to hide my shock. $500? Surely she’s getting some sort of discount, working at the vet’s office and all. How many damn animals does she have?

“They are bad this year. Well. It was good seeing you.” I smile my best “I’m not being rude, I’m just in a hurry” smile and head toward the grapes. Is everyone I’ve ever met in freaking Publix today? I drop the grapes into my basket and consider what else I need. Apples. Crap. I forgot about Devon. I head back to the apples. Devon is leaned over the case, poking at a green apple.

“How’s it going, apple expert?” He pulls one out of each jacket pocket.

“I think these are the best ones. This one has a little red on it though, but no bruises. Is that ok?”

“These are the most perfect apples I’ve ever seen. You must be the best apple picker in all the land.” Devon giggles.

“You need me to get anything else?”

“Nah. You did good. I really have to run though.”

“Ok. I’ll tell Calvin I saw you.”

“You do that. Tell him I said hey.” I held out my fist and he bumped it. “See ya later, Devon.”

I head toward the check out and there are exactly three registers open, all of which have at least three people in line. They all look bad. I randomly pick one. I glance at my watch. 5:40. Looks like it’s sandwiches for Dewie.