Supermarket(26)

Shit, I thought to myself. She’s so amazing.

“I’ll show you scared,” I joked. With my left hand still holding her stomach, I brought my right hand to her throat in a playful, pretend choke.

“Oh, now you’re talking, Daddy.” Whoa, damn. I’d never had a girl talk to me like this. Certainly not on a Putt-Putt course.

“Jeez, girl . . . you’re kind of a freak, huh?”

“Maybe just a little one,” she said, gripping my hand around her neck. “Punish me, Daddy, I’ve been bad.”

“Uuhhmmm . . . ,” I mumbled, not sure what to say.

“Now,” she continued. “Mug me.”

“What? What do you mean?” I asked.

“I don’t know, man. Pretend you’re mugging me . . . what would you say?”

“Hey, bitch!”

“Haha, nice.” She laughed. “Keep going!”

“Gimme all your fuckin’ money!!”

“CRUNCH TIME!” Mia screamed as loud as she could. She raised her knee high into her chest and slammed the heel of her boot on my right foot, shooting pain to the receptors in my brain . . . along with any blood that might previously have been in my penis.

“Oh, what the FUCK!” I half yelled and half laughed. The pain wasn’t excruciating, but it fucking hurt, that’s for sure.

“Oh, sorry! Haha, I tried not to do it too hard. Must be muscle memory.”

“What the hell, Mia?” I said, laughing despite the pain.

“Well, in the class we used realistic dummy legs connected to feet with this bone-like material. That move, if done correctly, and with all the force necessary to flee the situation, would have broken all the toes in your foot.”

“Wait,” I said suddenly. “Why the hell did you scream CRUNCH TIME?!”

“Oh, I don’t know. The instructor told us to give a war cry whenever we do it. That it would give us more power.”

“And . . . ‘crunch time’ came out?” I laughed. “I mean, what about ‘HI-YAH’ or some other karate-kid shit? Crunch time sounds like you’re doing a real-life Cap’n Crunch commercial.”

“Haha . . . a what?” she asked, moving closer to me.

“A Cap’n Crunch commercial,” I said, giving her a puzzled look. “You know Cap’n Crunch, right?”

“What the hell is Captain Crunch?”

“WHAT’S CAP’N CRUNCH?!” I couldn’t fucking believe it. “Mia, you work in a supermarket!”

“What are you talking about, Flynn? I’ve never heard of Captain Crunch.”

“It’s Cap’n, not Captain, Mia. Let’s get it right. And it’s a cereal. One of the finest ever engineered. How the hell have you never heard of Cap’n Crunch? What planet are you from? I mean, what cereal did you eat growing up?”

“One question at a time, damn,” she said, laughing. “I was poor, remember? All I ever knew was the off-brand cereals.”

“You’re kidding me.” I chuckled.

“I mean, I’ve had Sergeant Smash.”

“Sergeant Smash? What kinda shit is that?” I laughed.

“Hey, asshole!” she said, punching me in the arm. “It was pretty good, actually. Better than this Captain Crunch guy, I bet.”

“Cap’n, Mia . . . Look, I know we were supposed to get pizza after this, but honestly . . . I say we go pick up some Cap’n Crunch and head to my place for a taste test!”

“Whoa there, cowboy,” she said. “First real date and you’re already trying to get me to your place?”

“Huh, no. I, well. I didn’t mean it like tha—” And of course she started laughing at me and my babbling.

“I’m just pulling your leg, Flynnagin.”

“Soooooo, taste test?” I asked.

“I’m so down,” she said, giving that amazing giggle once more. “Let’s go!”

On our way back to my spot we stopped by Muldoon’s to get a cereal medley. Had to put that employee discount to work. All 15 percent of it. We cruised down the cereal aisle, surveying the scene. Each box loudly vied for our attention. Screamed at us, really. Little cartoon characters popped out, threatening us with their sugar-fueled enthusiasm. Lucky Charms, Rice Krispies, Frosted Flakes, Trix, Cocoa Puffs. Poor Sonny the Cuckoo Bird looked like he had just mainlined a speedball.

“I’m telling you, Flynn, the generics are just as good, and half the—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Mia. It’s time to ball out. Only name brands today. This is the pure shit. Top-shelf cereal shopping. I’m about to show you a whole new world.” And there it was, near the end of the aisle. Captain Horatio Magellan Crunch. Casting his watchful eye over a chaotic sea of competitors. A steady hand among the cereal mascot miscreants. He was always there for me in the mornings. Through good times and bad. It brought me joy to show Mia the wonders of the cereal aisle. The intercom interrupted.

“Attention, Muldoon’s shoppers, we will be closing in ten minutes. Please select your items and make your way to check out. Thank you for shopping at Muldoon’s, and have a good night.”

We grabbed our selections and headed to check out.

Mia got distracted as we passed through the produce section. She brought it to my attention that she was obsessed with pomegranates. The deseeding was rewarding to her. And the pop of the seeds was “exhilarating.” She shuffled the pomegranates, disrupting the precarious pomegranate pyramid. A few fell to the ground. I bent down to pick them up, and as I stood up my heart stopped.