Citizen Jim Invades the Land of Food

Last Wednesday, I was just standing in line at Foodland, upset with myself for being such a horrible crank toward the poor checkout girl the last time I was in there, knowing good and well that honey attracts more flies than vinegar; this, of course, made me wonder what the origin of such an aphorism might be, since most people also associate flies with shit, but that's another story for another time.

Then I remembered that I needed to get some litter for the cat box and left my place in the line to go and fetch said necessary evil.

Well.

The next thing I knew, a denim-clad leg had shot out of nowhere into my path and, having nowhere to go but sprawling forward onto the hard tile of Foodland's spotless floor, I did just that, my milk, teabags and five pound bag of sugar flying in all directions away from me.

Obviously, Jim was in town. I was so happy!

But he was not.

Apparently, he'd e-mailed me the text of his latest effort for the Mobile Register so that I could proofread it and make sure he hadn't stretched any truths too far beyond his usual boundaries of elasticity.

Oh, believe me. When all else fails, he can really manipulate the data.

Like the time he "went out" on that "super-hot date" with Erika Eleniak when she was in Fairhope shooting Under Seige with the handsome and talented Steven Seagal. So far as I know, the only contact Jim even had with her was when she and one of the gophers from the movie set were zipping around in a golf cart right near the entrance of the airport. They were paying no attention, and clipped the back tire on Jim's bike, sending him airborne and ruining the spokes on his wheel. They didn't even stop. So much for a hot date, right?

Still, every time that movie Chasers comes on, Jim watches it from start to finish, lamenting the fact that he "got cold feet" and never asked Erika out on a second "date."

Anyway.

I couldn't even recall receiving this e-mail from Jim, and said so.

"That's just what I thought you'd say," he fumed, standing over me so that I couldn't get up from the floor of the grocery store. Then he looked around like a secret agent and reached down the front of his pants, pulling out a sheaf of papers about half an inch thick. "This has to be cut down to something like 500 words. Get busy."

I finally convinced him that I might be able to work better at home and he let me finish my shopping.

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