I have a soup obsession. When it hits about 2:00pm, I start thinking about what kind of soup to make. I am trying to be on a health kick too, which complicates matters because that limits the kind of soup you can cook. A real American tragedy like broccoli cheese soup or a chowder is out the window. Anyway, I finally settled on chicken soup because I have very little self respect and cooking skill.
In order to make my soup, I had to go to my local grocery. There are few options in rural Alabama but the closest one I can get to without getting on an interstate is the sustenence wonderland we in the biz call “Greer’s”. Greer’s has been around for as long as I remember as a local grocery store in Bayou La Batre. They’re a monopoly in the area and some of their highlights include: the worst produce known to man, the inexplicable smell of decaying flesh, and roaches underneath the aisles. No joke, it’s a real American institution.
I pulled up the local Greer’s and immediately knew I was in for an absolute treat. I immediately saw a woman wearing a shirt that said, “Calm Down, Karen, It’s Allergies.” Since I am fully vaccinated, I was going to forgo my mask in the building but decided to wear my mask because I didn’t want Greer’s Karen to think I was on her team.
I quickly got all of my soup making materials and wandered over to the deli aisle to check it’s wares.
Flanked by several dry rotisserie chickens that look like they had been there for a few days was a jackpot: corndogs. I had to get one. First of all, because I have no self respect anymore, second of all because I haven’t had one in many years and third of all just because I fucking wanted to.
Karen was in line ahead of me. I don’t really know what it is about standing in line in redneck establishments but it always makes me feel a little plucky. She looked up and saw my mask and said loudly, “I don’t know why people are still wearing those diapers on their faces…ya’ll look so stupid.”
Me: “Hey I have a telescope…”
Me: ” Yeah, I have a telescope. I can see all kind of stars and galaxies.”
Karen: “Okay and?”
Me: “I looked all over space. And I still could not find a place in this universe where anyone gave a fuck about your redneck opinion.”
The corn dog…ended up being just a corn dog. It was about as corndoggy as you can imagine- lukewarm but delicious. It’s really hard to fuck up a corndog, even if you are Greer’s. But I’d like to think the corndog and I have something in common. We are both out there being real pieces of the American Dream.