The Inner Monologue Of The Kentucky Man Who Left His Baby At The Grocery Store

Oh Jesus. Ok. I need to double check this stupid list before I check-out… Eggs. Right there. Milk. There. Two bags of frozen mixed vegetables, one large bag of rice, the steaks. Ok, check, check and check. Everything looks to be here. Got the bread too. Good. Cereal, soy milk, regular milk and coffee. Got it, got it, got it, and got it. Good work, Steven. You’ve officially given Amy nothing to bitch at you about. And now, to the check out. Kids are all here. Ok… Now to pick the shortest line.

I always screw that up. I always go for what I think is the shortest line, then some old lady will pay with a check. Like it’s the fifties or something. Get a debit card you dumb old lady. I shouldn’t say that. My mom’s an old lady… Hopefully some stupid immigrant in front of me won’t think it’s ok to pay with pennies. Did I just think that. I just thought that. That’s kind of ignorant of me. People have a right to be in this country just like I do. But they should at least learn to speak english and pay with debit cards. It’s called assimilation. My grandparents did it. I’m racist. Kind of racist. Working on it though. I love ethnic food.

Ethnic food. Shit. Ok, forgot the hot sauce. I’ll just tell Billy to go grab it. He’s old enough to do that, nobody’s going to take him…

Oh Jesus. I remember this song. Carly Simon. I wonder what she’s doing. I should google her when I get home. I’ll google her with the safe search off when the kids are doing their homework. Have to remember to turn the safesearch back on though.

Ok, there he is. And with the proper hot sauce. This kid is awesome. He’s the only one with any hope for his future. Did I just think that? Jesus. What’s wrong with me. All three of my kids will probably go to good schools. The baby is kind of smart, too. She’s tiny. This baby is so tiny. I should put her in a backpack. Or on one of those leashes.

Where the f*ck did I park.

Ok. All present and accounted for. Groceries, receipt, children… Found the car. Solid. Didn’t even have to set the alarm off this time. I’m improving. I’m becoming a better, less racist, less agist person.

The gas is at a quarter tank which is perfect. Enough for tomorrow. And the cart. Shit. Left the cart on the side of the car. Screw it, that’s what they pay the retarded guy for. Damnit. I really wish I didn’t just say that again. People with special needs can have jobs too. Don’t be a dick, Steven. Get home, chill out, eat some dinner, google Carly Simon. Solid evening. Totally good.

She’s going to think I forgot something, and if I did, I’m not going back. That grocery store was a madhouse. I’m not going back. We can do without whatever it was I foolishly forgot, she can yell at me, we can sort of fight, eat dinner in silence, I’ll google Carly Simon nude, we’ll go to bed, then I’ll worm my way into some makeup sex. Totally fine. It’s not like I’m forgetting anything too important. Whatever it was I’m sure can be borrowed from the neighbor. Screw her. I work all day, I’m entitled to forget a thing or two here and there…

Oh sweet Jesus, I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby. I forgot my baby…

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