My favorite store is Chuck's Produce.
It is some bizarre portal that transforms from a local produce store to my personal meat market once the automatic doors close behind me.
If I'm in a hurry, I wear the ruby ring my mom gave me for my birthday. That way I can get out within an hour. Without the ring, I'm a conversation vortex, disguised as a woman squeezing and sniffing fruit.
Today the produce boy stocking cherries had a stomach ache because he ate a scorpion pepper a half hour prior to my arrival. I ordered him to go drink some milk, but he didn't want to get in trouble. In retrospect, he could have used a hug.
In the checkout line, there was young, blond gentleman who looked like he had walked right off the page of a 1960's surfing ad. As I enthusiastically made room for his items on the conveyer belt, his young Robert Redford handsomeness distracted me, and my basket went flying off the end- which I caught in mid-air. It was the single greatest moment of my life.
I told him that I was a ninja, which opened the door to conversation and unskilled flirting. It was awkward and wonderful, and I think I love him.
When I left, I was hoping to see him in the parking lot. That way I could show off what a cool car I have...and according to stereotypes, my really small penis too.