A Tower of Tampons


I hate shopping. No, that’s no fair. I am bored by shopping. So very bored.

Yawn…. We’ve heard all of this before… Why should I read any further?

Well you don’t have to, but if you stay I’ll share with you how it is that I get through a shopping trip with the wife.

Many men hate/loath/fear being dragged around Tesco or where ever for the weekly food shop. Me too, but secretly, I’m really starting to look forward to it. Now its an opportunity for me to come up with new and inventive ways to make a nuisance of myself and generally be as unhelpful and childish as possible.

It all started during a trip to a local DIY store. I was outstandingly bored to the point that I found myself staring in mock disgust at other men, other men who were nodding enthusiastically at their wives selection of lamp or curtain pole. On one occasion a chap caught me staring at him, my face a twisted sneer of loathing and he stood stock still. I imagine the awful realisation of what he had become was dawning upon him as his arms, outstretched as they were and clutching a carpet held up to catch the light from various angles, slowly lowered as he stared back at me. I could see the momentary change in his gaze as we shared a moment of understanding. What had we become? In my mind I wondered what a warrior Celt or roman soldier would have done when confronted with a choice of fabric to put on his humble homes floor. I imagine he would have back handed the woman to the floor, roared like an enraged god and then charged out into the ice wind to seek enemies to smite. He would return speckled with blood and carrying the bloody corpse of a slain lion – actually, two lions, one in each hand. The woman would then gratefully show her respect by prancing about naked and making ‘cute’ gasps of delight as our hero describes the lions final moments. Needless to say she would then except her reward for being a good and dutiful wife through the medium of a proper deep throating.

Er…. I digress.

So this guy sees my sneer of disgust and knows instantly that I think he’s a thumb crushed wimp of a man, but what’s this? His look of shock and recent dejection changes. It warps before my very eyes into one of a wry smile, grows into something more before finally, he beams in abject triumph. I follow his gaze and turn to see my own wife. She is holding a curtain rail in each hand and waiting for my judgement.

Sigh.

She sees me squeeze my eyes closed and assumes I am thinking really hard about which rail to choose but I’m not. I’m trying to hold on to the memory of me as a heroic Celt warrior being noshed silly by a grateful nymph and yet the dream drifts away – mere smoke through my grasping spastic fingers. In its place I see a pathetic looking man, naked and limp. He is sad as he looks at me and points where his beautiful naked nymph once stood. There stands a cackling witch and in her hand she holds a curtain rail shaped wand.

Sigh.

And so I grow angry, and then mischievous. We walk to another isle where a row of plungers catches my eye. I walk along the row pushing each and every plunger down so that it suctions to its shelf. Then I retire a little further up the isle and await some poor fool to walk into my trap. Behold! My first victim arrives and assuming nothing is amiss he tries to pluck up a plunger without even breaking stride. His stroll is suddenly arrested as the plunger refuses to move and he almost pulls himself off his own feet. As anyone would, he looks around quickly to see if anyone has noticed and sees me sniggering to myself. He shakes his head at me and reaches for another only to be thwarted a second time. I continue to snigger, only a little louder and my obvious mirth appears to challenge him. He places one foot on the shelf and for some reason unknown heaves with all of his might. I’m not sure how much suction he thought was holding those plungers down but the amount of effort he applied was probably a tad too much. The plunger, obviously, relinquishes its grip and the man, plunger in hand stumbles backward into the opposite isle.

I can barely stand, such is my amusement.

After that episode I spent many hours considering other schemes to amuse myself.

Hiding with the trolly is always a good one. I usually do this after my wife has just been down the pet food aisle and so carrying two cases of cat food. Watching her struggle to carry them around the shop and red with rage is priceless.

My best one so far though has go to be this. My wife has a fear of tampons. I don’t know if it’s the word ‘tampon’ or if it’s actually the thought that anyone who sees them will know she’s on her period but it still makes her bury them in the shopping trolly. This always amuses me. One day, I feigned interest and walked around the shop with her. I didn’t do any of my usual tricks or jokes and she assumed I’d finally grown up. When we got to the checkout she went to the packing bit and started to pack the bags while I proceeded to construct my masterpiece. I was getting some strange looks from the woman in the queue behind me as instead of laying all my shopping out nicely I proceeded to build a tower of food and other bits and pieces. And yes, you’ve guessed it, I placed her tampons at the top of this tower. I knew I would pay for it a soon as I got home but right there and then I was glowing with pride. The till girl saw what I had done as my massive tampon tower slowly moved toward her. At least she had a sense of humour as she laughed out loud. My wife then noticed and turned a brilliant red. It was awesome.

So you see, shopping doesn’t have to be hell on earth. There are a million and one different ways to make it more interesting, if not a little dangerous, but you get the meaning.

I wish you luck in your endeavours and hope you find as much enjoyment as I have an still do.

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