“Damn”, she thought, “it’s going to be close.”

     Donna dodged the pick-up truck and taxicab wheeling the van into the parking lot. She dived into the first spot she saw, got her girl, Karen out of her child seat and charged into the supermarket. The guys would be over for dinner soon. Her heart took on the Sousa beat of the march she was trying to get the school band to nail down. They just couldn’t hit it in spite of the parrot like repetition she put them through.

      “Come on, Karen, Mom’s got to rush”, she said tossing he daughter into the back of the carriage like the bagger at the end of the line tosses her eggs around. 

     Donna stopped in the back of the store. She picked up each item a second time to assure herself she didn’t miss anything.

     “Good”, she though, “still have some time.” She headed for the express line pulling a 180 and hitting a standing display of corn chips. Karen gave her the look. “Sure, I do it and I catch hell. You just walk away”.

     “I don’t have time to pick them up, honey”, she whispered in aggravation. “Beside, they shouldn’t have it in the middle of the aisle.”

     Donna felt it getting to her. She could see their hungry

faces. She knew she should have left school when she planned. She didn’t need to stay and grade work that wasn’t due for two days.

     She got in line. “Great, only one ahead of me”, she said softy.

     “You got the wrong chocolate syrup!” the man in front of her yelled drowning out the intercom. The outburst dumbfounded and embarrassed his wife.

     “Can’t you get it right! How many times do you buy the stuff and you don’t remember!”

     Donna, in defense of the poor woman and rallying to support a fellow member of the wives club thought, “Come-on, give her a break you idiot. It’s all the same.”

     The argument ensued. “Don’t worry Karen honey, some people are just not very nice sometimes” she blurted, seeing her daughter was upset.

     “Oh #%&*!” as she gazed in her carriage.

     Karen looked stunned. “First the corn chips and now the word. Daddy’s not going to like this.”

     “I got the wrong @#^% muffins”, Donna said as she turned around and sped back to the bread to get Bob’s special cinnamon and raisin muffins.  

End.