conveniently making for setting

The aisle-long lights are fluorescent beyond any comprehendable reason and "Hotel California" is coincidentally playing every time you walk in through the automatic sliding doors. And you still hold out your palms and say Open Sesame like Ali Baba every time you walk in through the automatic sliding doors, into the most awkward or captivating of situations. [She elaborates.]

Pancakes for Four: Mr. Fauxtato Heads
Looking for blank video tapes accompainied by near strangers, and it never occurs to you that you just had breakfast with three people you barely know, and now you're bonding in the toy aisle because one of them finds a rubber chicken and pelts you in the face with it, and a month later, you've seen every square inch of their souls. [She's clearly retarded in sense of tense]

You're The People You're Certain You'd Hate
Going in with your obnoxious mother to use the CoinStar service and cash all fifty pounds of change she accidentally saved up over the past few months. Being the loudest fucking people in the store while the coins are clanking inside the machine and being embarrassed because the girl behind the counter just rolled her eyes at you and she sits in front of you in English class. All for the fifteen dollars minus eight cents out of every dollar for use of the machine, which deducts approximately one dollar and twenty cents; an equation you only spent time to figure out in case your mom would be so intolerably demanding to ask.

S'more Babbling Sprites in Wildwood Canyon
Buying marshmallows, six bars of chocolate, and a box of graham crackers with two friends you definitely did not expect to spend time with, and having every intention of making s'mores and telling ghost stories up in the hills. (Later, when it's too late, you'll realize it's illegal to set anything on fire in the woods)

I scream, "Cake!" and I scream, "Cake!" and it sounds like a System of a Down song If I say it right.
Finding the right cake to prove to your Summertime buddy that you can eat the whole thing in one sitting, and feeling bad when he pays for it, because he seems to pay for everything, but when you say you feel badly about it, he reminds you that he has a job and you don't. So you see little rubber dinosaurs that grow if you soak them in water, and throw those onto the moving conveyor belt because you can. Mirror, Shoulder, Lane Change. So you're in line to buy the cake with your completely platonic friend who all your scandalmongers of peers accuse you of fucking, and your phone rings.
ID: scandalmonger of a peer
And you show your completely platonic friend who all your scandalmongers of peers accuse you of fucking, "Great. Just look. Look who's calling me. I should just not answer that whore's phone call." But you pick it up. And she's standing right behind you.

Thematic Scavenger Hunt
A pit stop before a costume party dressed as sailors, and only buying things related to the sea. Shark gummies, beach toys, OceanSpray juice, Dramamine, Cracker Jacks (there's a sailor on the box), and Otter Pops (just because they're necessary anywhere you go, with the exception that there isn't a freezer available). And it's magical, until the fat old lady in the medical aisle laughs asks why you're doing it.

Sav-on Salvation
You can't go into Ralph's because one of your friends works the night shift. All the liquor stores are closed. And all you want is a box of condoms. And you could rely on no other than the one and only Hi, My Name is Lupe, Serving You Since You Were Freaking Born in the amiable red vest you've come to know so well.

School-night Revelation
And then there's the time that you simply ask an old friend to drive you there because you're out of paper and chapstick. And you have a thought. No more than a year ago, you were waltzing up and down these same aisles with this same person who was then a complete mystery, and now you're both standing in line as if you first shared glances in the Labor & Delivery room. There has to be some sort of statistic, like on a snapple bottle cap. The average person spends x amount of days of their life walking up and down vinyl tiles, under bright fluorescent bulbs, "Hotel California" pumping into their ear canals, as they make their decision. Covergirl or Maybelline. Durex or Trojan. They spend x amount of days conveniently inhabiting a universal setting.

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