Hiding the evidence

I was covered in red, it had dripped all down my legs. The woman at the bus stop looked over, to her, something obviously was night right. I needed to hide the bag, it was too heavy, and with my legs covered in red, things were getting worse. I was drawing unwanted attention. If I could hide the goods, I thought I could make it home and return with my car, the boot could be my saviour. What have I got myself into?

As I crossed the road, I remembered I needed some milk. However, what was meant to be a milk getting moment, turned into a mini shopping escapade. Of course, they never put the things you want at the front, more like at the back, forcing you to pass the rest of the goods on offer.

Well I needed a onion. I also needed some mushrooms, some chicken, three jars of pasta sauce, some bread, some tea bags, in fact I needed half the supermarket. And that was my mistake. What was meant to be a 70p bottle of milk, turned into forty pounds and four, heavy weighed, shopping bags.

Now, do I get the bus or walk the two miles home? I looked at the bus stop. Filled with eight pensioners, two tracksuit wearing kids and a mother and double decker pram, I decided that a walk was in order. Christmas had been unkind, a walk would be good.

After ten minutes, things started to go wrong. Shop at a cheap supermarket, and get cheap bags. It’s the first thing they do to reduce costs. And now I was paying for it. Three out of the four bags were starting to sag, the packet of bacon had sliced through the side of the other bag. Every time I went to cross a busy road, I knew that anytime, the entire contents of the bags could explode on the tarmac. Half way. Snap. The first bag gave way. Time to improvise. I stuck a packet of sausages in one pocket, two yogurts in the other, a breadstick under my arm. That allowed me to distribute the weight into the other three bags.

Just five minutes to go. Disaster. The three bags completely gave way, my toffee crisp fell to the ground with a box of eggs. As I bent down to pick up the eggs, the yogurts fell out of my coat, splitting on impact. Holding both bags with my arms, I struggled up the final hill. Then I realised the tomato and basil tomato sauce had broken on impact. Half the contents were dripping down my legs, leaving a trail of sauce along the pavement. Enough was enough. People were starting to stare. My only option was to find a bush to hide the contents of the two bags, allowing me to man handle the third split bag back home. If I planned it right, nobody would find the bag, allowing me to return in my car to pick up the scattered goods. Now for a quiet seaside town, a person dripping in red, trying to hide a bag, what would the neighbours think?

Relax, I'm in. Just sit down and have a cup of tea. Shit, I forgot to get the milk.


Finding somewhere to hid the bag....


the red all over my leg, looking very suspect......


The offending bags..... split wide open.....



The offending tomato and basil pasta sauce, the final straw....