The Firefly Field Theory

|12| Don't You Dare Laugh: Part II

PART II:

Alright, so since we were laughing like a bunch of lunatics who just escaped the mental asylum, we did attract a lot of attention. We didn’t notice when we were busy acting like freaks on crack. It was only when our lungs could take no more and all the outrageous laughing stopped, that we noticed everybody who’d made the mistake of buying groceries from the CSD this eventful morning was standing in our occupied aisle and staring at us. Before the manager arrived or something, we got a grip and assessed the situation. Z and Omi being the star performers in the entire hula occurring for the past ten minutes, decided to flee. Well, Omi fled, Z threw his wallet towards me and limped out.

Wall-e puts his camera away, and helps me up, because apparently my legs have gone numb and jelly like. The crowd tries its best to mind its own business, but the poor fools can’t help but stare at the remainder of the crazy fest. Me and Wall-e, but then Wall-e leaves to get a trolley so now they feast their eyes on me.

They keep taking peeks at me as I move to another aisle and start anew with the shopping. Their stares would have made me nervous or the slightest bit of conscious, but I feel unshakable right now, also a little bit of dumb and stupid and wacky.

But like a conqueror. Like a mad conqueror. I feel like I’m infinite and ready for the road trip to begin. Wall-e returns, his head held down as pushes the trolley close to me. Since I clearly won the ‘Amazing Banana Race’, I am now in charge of buying all the notoriously unhealthy junk we need for the drive. Now it’s the time to rise, this is my glorious reign and with my trusted guide/ sidekick/ vizier/ prime-minister/ photographer by my side; we are invincible.

“What kind of crackers do you wanna get?”

“Cheese. Do they have granola bars?”

“Yeah I saw some over there, how many should I get?”

“Um… Ten maybe.”

“kay.”

I never realized this, but I’m more than just a smart shopper, I’m a smart shopper even under the burning gazes of other smart shoppers. I get all the things we might need, and stack them in the trolley. And when it’s time to stand in line at the ringing counter, even Wall-e appreciates this, “Oh my gosh, pillows? That’s what I was forgetting, nice going.”

Since I’m generally inexperienced with Pakistani currency I hand Z’s walled to my side kick and let him pay. When we’re done with that he pushes the trolley down the counter and I follow him. The dewy morning air envelopes us as soon as the glass doors of the exit part. We walk back to the van and I spot a shiny oval hovering in the far corner and I immediately know it’s Omi, dressed out of his costume to keep his innumerable fans under control.

 It’s the perfect weather, the kind when the Sun makes a deal with the winds: We both can sing today. The duet comprises the part where the Sun tosses muted, warm and comfortable beams at the Earth, and the winds blow in hushed crisps and refresh the atmosphere. As my partner in grocery shopping pushes the trolley of all-things-delicious-except-the-non-edible-stuff, through the parking he says, “This is going to be one of those trips we won’t forget.”

I smile at him and nod. Because I’ve been having that feeling too, like life is hinting at it. Possibly a second chance; a chance to live it up. And this time with people I can call friends.

“So what’d you get? What’d you get? What’d you get?” A fully recovered Z jumps towards the trolley, Omi slides the door open.

“A lot.” I smile.

“I’m telling you I will drive back home if your amateurish grocery don’t impress me.”

“Fair enough.”