Malcolm lived a good twenty minutes’ drive from town. He usually went into town about once every couple of weeks. It’s not that he was organized. Meals were planned while walking down the aisles of the supermarket. Pasta! Yeah, I think I’ll get some pasta. Rice! Yeah I think I’ll get some rice. Frozen fish cakes! Yeah! And so on.
On this particular day he arrived in town and there was no trouble finding a park. In fact, there were no cars. There were no people either. Everything was empty. Not a soul about. There weren’t any dead bodies or anything. Yet all the shops were open. One shop even had music playing: Fernando by ABBA. As if that would help a shopper buy shoes!
The experience was surreal; normal except no one about. Malcolm went into a takeaway and helped himself to a couple of chicken drumsticks and a bun. He made it his mission to go from food shop to food shop, and he chewed into fancier and fancier things. He plunged his teeth into the most fabulously decorated wedding cake. No knife! Nothing but teeth! It was not particularly nice. Too sweet! That sickly Marzipan.
He backed his car up to the main door of the supermarket and stuffed as much produce as could fit into every available space. And then he remembered something…
He had always wanted a tent. There would be no space in the car for a tent, so he drove to the Camping Store, selected an excellent tent, and pulled out a few things from the car to make space leaving a pile of produce in the car park.
When he got home he unloaded the car, packing things appropriately into cupboards and freezers. The tent he stored away to be used later in the summer.
What a weird but wonderful experience! He wouldn’t have to go into town for another six months. Brilliant! He hated going into town. Oh, blast! He’d forgotten to get cat food.