The Days are Numbered

Another excerpt from a story from the upcoming Ethical Aspects of Animal Husbandry.

I admit to having a fascination with obsessive characters - or maybe that should be obsession. In this story, Judd, sees a certain number (with some biblical, ominous overtones) a few too many times.

This was published a few years back by Cezanne's Carrot (a very funky literary journal).

The Days are Numbered

Tell me this: who needs six tubes of lip balm? A half a dozen cans of tuna, yeah, on sale, okay—and buying six disposable razors, sure—Judd knew how fast those got used. Still, that didn't explain the sixer of lip balm. Judd shuffled forward a few steps in the express lane. The woman with the six pink Lady Shick razors looked about fifty. Nice complexion at her age. Her lips seemed normal. It was a very dry city, but if someone goes through that much lip balm, they've got a problem.

She lumbered through the checkout chute and headed to the glass doors. Judd thought he heard her mutter something before the doors slid open. The rubber track whirred and brought his six hot dog buns and eight smokies to the checker. She plucked them, scanned them, BEEEP, and told him his total, in one simultaneous moment.

"Six dollars and sixty-six cents."

"Excuse me?"

"Your total, six-sixty–"

"Oh, right." He didn't want her to say it again. "Sorry."

Outside the supermarket, he wondered why the checker didn't comment on the bill. It probably didn’t register. All day long she reads numbers off her screen, like she’s naming the shoppers. The thin woman, with the Häagen-Dazs and Diet Coke, she's 7.87—the old man, with the veal cutlets and Frenchs mustard, he's 9.20—the kid with the greasy hair, baggy pants and watermelon Hubba Bubba, he's .96. And on and on. So what if she named him that number with the biblical, heavy metal connotation. No big deal.

At his car, Judd was still thinking about the lip balm. A gust blew through the parking lot and cooled the beads of sweat on his forehead and upper lip. As he pulled out, he said, "Six cans of tuna, six razors and six tubes of Lypsol." Then he laughed. “Groceries of the beast.”