Complication as a Mutant Ability

Forty-five dollars.  And some change.

That’s the cost of a free box of Chocolate Cheerios.  This could only be the result of my spouse’s ridiculously evil mutant ability.

I guess I need to back up a touch and explain what the hell I’m talking about.

About a month ago, my wife, who has become quite skilled at ferreting out free stuff–coupons, samples and such–excitedly showed me a couple of coupons for a free box of Chocolate Cheerios.  Okay, I’m sorry, but I’m not one of those that subscribe to the belief that chocolate is an essential food group, let alone a breakfast staple.  My wife, however, does.

Regardless.  It’s free.  So it ain’t no big deal, right?  “Okay,” I say.  “Next time we go grocery shopping we’ll pick it up.”

“Yeah well,” she says.  “I can only do it one day.”

“Whaddya mean?”

“The coupon.  It’s only good for one day.  June 21st.”

“One day?”

“One day.”

So, not only is my first reaction to Chocolate Cheerios a rather enthusiastic BLARGH noise, now I have to dance to the tune of the General Mills’ piper?  Seriously, this is what the combination of the three letters WTF was made for.

Anyway, I, being male, promptly forget the coupon, forget the cereal and forget the date.

Flash forward about a month…

Today, June 21st, has been an eventful day.  My wife has this tendency to grind her teeth at night.  Lovely habit, that.  I just love the noise of enamel on enamel in the night.  Not.

Anyway, she’s tried a few different things, including the ubiquitous mouth guard.  It only served to knock her jaw out of alignment.  Turns out she’s developed sharp little shards of bone that have started to break through the gums.  So she’s had to go to a specialist twice for them to slice open her gums and file down those nasty things.  I know, I know, sounds like a lot of fun, but no, not just anyone can go get this done.   And yet, my wife, being special, got to go yet again today.  Woo-hoo, right?

And why am I telling you this?  What has this got to do with Chocolate Cheerios?  I’m getting there, I swear.

So I take her to the operation.  We were assured she’d be out quick which was great because I also had to be home to attend a meeting at work.  She wasn’t done yet.  So a reasonably quick visit turns into an operation and me going back and forth to the specialist twice, because I after a certain time, I had to leave, get home (hitting every damn red light all along the way), do the meeting, jump back in the car, get back downtown, find a parking spot, rush back up to the offices, locate my stoned wife, and get her back downstairs and poured into the car.  Get her home.  Along the way, she starts stressing about a report that she needs to deliver tomorrow morning.  So when I get her home, I get her boss’s phone number.  Then it’s back out to drop off the perscriptions for her happy pills, call her boss, wait for the pills, get the pills and come home.

Again, I swear I’m getting to the cereal.

I get home and, like the conquering hero I am, deliver the Pills of Happiness.  And what thanks do I get?  I get a stoned woman who’s mouth is packed with enough gauze to make her look like Brando’s brother looking at me through those half-lidded eyes and saying, “You gonna go get the free Chocolate Cheerios?” (See?  I told you I’d get around to it!)

I stare back with what I hope is my best look of incredulity (not that I really have a series of varying degrees of incredulity, mind you), and say, “You gotta be freakin’ kidding me.”

She stares back with a look that manages in its silence to clearly indicate she is not, in fact, freakin’ kidding me.  “They told me I could eat pudding.  We don’t have any, so you’re gonna have to go get some of that anyway.”

And really, it’s not the fact that I have to pick up pudding.  It’s not.  It’s the fact that, having gone through some guy slicing her gums, filing her bones, drugging the crap out of her and packing her face with gauze, she’s still, somehow, managed to determine that today is not only June 21st, but it is, in fact, The Day General Mills Decreed Thou Shalt Have Thine Chocolate Cheerios.

Colour me impressed.  Oh, and still incredulous.

But then, even stoned, her mutant ability kicks in.  She breaks out the coupon envelope, figures out a few other coupons that are coming up on expiration, starts working up a grocery list.  “No, wait!” I cry.  “I’m going out for pudding and Cheerios.  That’s it!”

“Chocolate Cheerios!”

“Pudding and Chocolate Cheerios!  That’s it!”

“Do we need milk?”

I check.  Shit.  “Pudding and Chocolate Cheerios and milk!  That’s it!”

“The doctor also said yogourt would be fine too.  Can you get me that extra creamy kind?”

Mentally, I’m doing the walk around the grocery story.  Yup, she’s taking me pretty much to the four corners of the store.  Damn her mutant ability!

She manages to build a list of about 8 items.  Plus the coupon items.

I grab the list and the coupons and run like hell for the door before she can think of anything else.

I get to the store and grab the stuff I need.  I get the pudding.  I get the milk.  I get the yogourt (extra creamy).  I head down the cereal aisle.

I see Cheerios.

I see Honey-Nut Cheerios.

I see Multi-Grain Cheerios.

I see Apple Cinnamon Cheerios.

Hell, I even see Banana Nut Cheerios.

What I don’t see is Chocolate Cheerios.  I don’t even see a space where they may have been but sold out, a victim of all those poor husbands of coupon collecting wives.

Nope.  Not one little brown circle anywhere.

Except me.  Feeling like an ass.

So I head to the checkout and pay for my purchases.

In the end, I guess it really was free Chocolate Cheerio day.

I didn’t pay a cent for them!  Instead, I paid just over forty-five dollars.

Damn that mutant ability.

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3 thoughts on “Complication as a Mutant Ability

  1. Um honey…what exactly are you trying to say here? I’m now thinking you didn’t want me to talk last night for fear of me sending you out the door for something else, not to rest my mouth as you put it, but I KNOW that can’t be it.

    And just for the record, I put the date for the Cheerios in my daytimer…I’m not stupid…they were CHOCOLATE Cheerios after all!!!

  2. Pingback: Just a Little Patience | Left to Write

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