Flash Fiction: Comfort Food Headphones

Dedicated to Maja Topic

The supermarket playlist is really heavy handed tonight. I now have less contempt for wireless earphone wearers. Still look like dicks but pragmatic. Bit like me really.

The 80s. Embarrassing because my parents were alive. I was hapless jerkoffs without the beach front surfwear. Holy fuck in Australia. 

Targeting is cultural history. Lets hit them in the guts. Sop it up. Soak it up. Mop it up. A hot assault like a block of molten iron. Looks warm on a screen, doesn't it? A swarm tactic on my gathering agency. I go in with the proviso of comfort food. Comfort has a used by date. Mine was June 1989. Swarm counter swarm. 

Jettison Airplane, Jettison Starship and Fleetwood Mac pumping out like a multiple torch lights song. It's a fucking emotional waterboarding so bad I think of my mother. That's a rarity but money transfers are loving it. And all the comfort foods are entwined in wholesome innocent longing. That had a use by date. June 1989.

Someone is coming from the opposite direction wearing cool headphones. Big expenditure. Their inner life looks so placid and me disaffected affect in dynamic malleability. Buy comfort food, ramen, chocolate, corn chips and dip. Not my usual. I am beside myself. And here is my written disclosure of defeat in tonight's running aisle battle. I bought some sensible olive oil. And then... fucking duck confit, fucking duck fat. Get fucked. The peak purchase like a struggle on yon mountain top on Walpurgisnacht. Zeus lightning bolt "you shall now stop the fuck shopping" from the red spot special of Jupiter.

It's a sign from Olympus. You wrestle and pankration pancakes with that olive oil crap.

objectionable