Whilst cruising down the grocery store aisles at Publix, I heard a funny announcement. A sleepy voice, employing a dead-on Ben Steinesque monotone called out over the intercom:
“Rolls to bakery… rolls to bakery.”
Upon hearing the call for crusty bread, I began to snicker. And then guffaw. Eventually I started snorting… very loudly. So loudly in fact, that a small child, upon hearing the supersonic noises emitted from my left nostril, exclaimed “Mommy! Mommy! That’s the sound a pig makes!”
And he didn’t even need to see me in front of a carton of Edy’s Double Fudge Brownie to know that. What a smart kid.
Anyway, because I love playing Nancy Drew, and because my brain is so fantastical, I immediately began creating scenarios to explain the roll sitch.
The obvious first response –the one I employ when *anything* goes missing, be it socks, shoes, belly button lint, etc – is that Mariah Carey ate them. Anyone who’s seen Mimi in a bikini that’s four sizes too small knows that this is a perfectly plausible explanation… but I digress.
A second possibility, (and in my mind the more logical one), is that fresh out of the oven, the Publix hot cross buns, overhearing a conversation betwixt frat boys, misunderstood when HornyJoe said “I’d like to squeeze those melons.”
Taking the melon thing quite literally, the bite-sized dinner breads quickly made haste to the produce department. Once there they got all snuggly-like with the honeydews and cataloupes, in hopes that they’d get a feel up.
This is not too crazy when you consider most buns like a little squeeze every once in a while.
*ba dum bum ching*
Anyway, and in a disappointing turn of events, after staking out the bakery (having found a cozy niche adjacent the lemon meringues and layer cakes), I located the person to whom the “rolls to bakery” page was made. A moon-faced mama in her mid-50’s, the employee whose nametag said Rose, well she had a hairnet and predilection for pastries.
So that solved it. “Rolls to the bakery” was actually “Rose to bakery.” Apparently I need a hearing aid. And some crazy pills. And maybe a ThighMaster Gold, because - call me crazy - bun squeezing actually sounds kind of sexy.
Ooh la la!