After I dropped off Jonah at Taekwondo practice, Ian and I went to Shop Rite, because our juice boxes levels were down to the E. Bad news.
We browsed around and picked up other things we needed. We had to kill an hour before it was time to pick up Jonah. Wheeling past the meat shelves, an old guy drove by in a motorized cart. He was huge with a dirty coat and matted hair. As he passed us, he coughed a big phlemy cough. Clearly a guy who spent most of his time in front of a TV with a carton of smokes.
Ian pointed at him and shouted, "Look, it’s a scary monsta! It’s a monsta!"
I covered his mouth, and we darted down the fruit roll up aisle.
Apt. 11d 