Julianne's Story

Cage Me

Julianne felt enough like a caged gerbil at the moment. There was definitely someone watching her, wanting to cage her. It was most likely a male… tall, husky, and generally he would stink of cheap Hamm’s beer and stanky unfiltered tobacco. Yep, he was there alright. He would be in the toiletries, of course—standing there seeming to gaze about at the toilet paper. Which one was the best buy? But, he wasn’t at all concerned about the best buy. No, sir.

     Julianne knew what he wanted when she came in through the swooshing doors and pulled a cart from the other corralled grocery carriers. Like was customary of the carts, the first one she pulled on wouldn’t give… it was stuck, so she grabbed a different one. This innocuous task could have been responsible for her current misfortunes. If she had only been able to grab the first cart, she could have had enough time to slip past the stinky, fat man without him ogling her. Damn the carts, she thought as she grabbed a Colby jack chunk from the cooled shelf.

     Surely the butcher will be behind his counter. He is thin and lanky, but he is amongst innumerable sharp objects and whirring machines. If I can make it to the meat counter before the Hamm’s man catches up to me, perhaps I can signal the man holding slabs of dripping meat. Julianne rehearsed the lines in her head until she was satisfied enough with their appeal.

     Julianne scuttled toward the deli area of the store. No, she didn’t need to make any purchases from that side of the store, but no other stranger could be trusted with her safety. The butcher would have been subjected to an application process, likely a background check as well. It was improbable that he would molest her or worse while he was working.

     She nearly rammed right into a patron weighing packaged pork as she whisked around an island of deli breads and sandwich wraps. Julianne found the notion ridiculous as the weight of each piece of meat was clearly marked on the top of the white sticker of the cellophane wrapped fatty meat. This thought also made her momentarily paranoid… it was possible that she was an accomplice, placed specifically there to slow her down—to stop her from reaching the shelter of the butcher’s paradise of sharp objects.

     Internally heaving, and quite enjoying her bout of popularity with this sick and twisted stalker, she reached the meat counter. Behind it, a woman with gloves placed some twice baked potatoes next to skewers of steak pressed tightly against various colorful vegetables.

     “May I help you?”

     “No, I’m just looking, thank you,” Julianne replied. The skewers did look appetizing. She considered a purchase.