Oh fuck shes bringing out a coupon. She handed it to the cashier. What the fuck can I do? I can’t go forward! She’s blocking me! I tried to look around her at the entrance, but she had that solidity particular to all middle aged women and my vision was cut off. Oh fuck the cashier is having trouble scanning the coupon! I could see her corpulent face begin to light up at the coming argument. This was her plan all along! She was in line, not to purchase an item, but to argue and obstruct! The horror of the situation began to set in. I started to sweat. My mouth went dry. Run? Fight? There was nowhere to run! How could I fight this bloviated monstrosity? Oh fuck the cashier is calling a supervisor! My life flashed before my eyes. I imagined a dystopian hellscape where I was chastened for eternity by this obese wine aunt. The supervisor and her squared off like two ancient gladiators settling a blood feud. I panicked. I started mumbling about the fear. The void. Oh fuck she heard me! She’s turning around! My eyes bulged. This grocery store Gorgon smelled my fear! Abort! Run! Flee!