Tués sur la Route Ragoût

“Don't come back without it.” I hung up my cell phone, as I pulled in to the parking lot of the market. The misses was all excited about making dinner, maybe having guests, now that I am out on parole.

Okay, first the vegetables, potatoes, good hearty potatoes, not those red thingies. Full grown carrots, not those mini things that remind me of earplugs we wear at the race track. Onions. I want an onion that makes your eyes burn and your stomach churn.

What else did she want me to pick up? Bread, fresh baked bread. Some real bread, not that pretend sliced crap, double wrapped in plastic bags.

Shrimp? Did she want to have shrimp cocktails?

Cheese and crackers. A couple cans of that real life nacho spray cheese and some crackers. I have tried other spray cheeses, but I must say the brand they carry here is just, well it just tastes so much like real cheese.

Candy? Some bars of her new favorite, chili peppers and dark chocolate, like the Aztecs use to eat.

Flowers, that's it. Nothing says love like an arrangement of some pretend wild flowers.

Dessert, she wanted dessert. Pie, I'm in the mood for pie, maybe one of them big fluffy lemon meringue things.

What's the worse she could say? “Sorry honey I didn't want the shrimp cocktail, the real bread, the nacho cheese and crackers, the chocolate, the flowers and definitely didn't want any of that beautiful fluffy lemon meringue pie for dessert.”

“Plastic is fine with me, miss. Double bag if you please.”

Meat! I almost forgot the main ingredient for dinner. Now where did she tell me she saw that dead deer? Somewhere along route 115. I hope it's still there, otherwise dinner is ruined.