Read the ingredients of the cake mix again. It's hard to focus my eyes that small, but I can make it out, "Water, Bromated Flour--" How can water be the first ingredient for a dry mix? There it is: Hydrogenated rapeseed oil, a code name for trans fat. How can they say, "Zero Grams Trans Fat," if it has trans fat?
Rich makes an announcement, "Guys, I have some sad news to report. Sonny passed away."
I'm a murderer. A person is dead, because I didn't have a microscope on me, when I was selecting a box from the shelf.
Life is an ocean of sorrow and I don't have a paddle. Oh the bastardtution of my birth. The devil wants me to think evil thoughts, but reject them. Fugtropolous. Reject them. Dirty.
Everything is dirty, the whole world, soil, the thing rich people fight over, without which nothing could grow, composed of corpses and manure. You can't get away from it. It's everywhere. You might as well lick the floor. Life is dirty. The earth is dirt. It's not necessarily meant as an insult. The Earth will burn, I mean that in the best possible way. Stinking, filthronicus, filthitution, lousy nippin', jiskertutional, son of a spuchite- sometimes just can't make up words filthy enough to express the utter lowliness, the destitution, the unbearable darkness of being. It's not even them, it's me. Angry at the world. Angry at me. Just angry, afraid, and sad. Don't want to be.
Next morning rise and take shower. For some strange reason can't ejaculate. Give up after twenty minutes.
Descend the stairs.
Theresa cheers, "Yippie. We're going to Schwegman's."
Rich counts the people, twenty, plus three staff. He drives the van. Theresa sits in front. Three people per seat in the back. Diane takes another load in her car.
We, a pack of special people, are set loose among The Consumers. Schwegman's is the Disneyland of supermarkets. Imagine fifty gourmet stores put together, for movie stars. Imagine a Wal-Mart for food. Imagine every kind of restaurant you can think of, all under one roof. Imagine the biggest fish market you ever saw, next to a line of salad bars, as far as the eye can see. They've got a pet store with a row of beauty salon chairs, dogs and cats sitting under hair dryers, while their nails are manicured. Too many kinds of bakeries to name. A car dealership and repair station. Fifty sushi chefs, lined up behind a counter the length of a football field, sing and chop in rhythm, while the wall behind them does a light show.