flying with turkeysRating:PG
Posted: November 24, 2000
Notes:
1) I have always wanted to send Angel shopping, but I kept putting it off because I didn't know anything about shopping in the United States. Thanks to some great assistance from Wren and Penny Century, I have put this piece together.
Thanks to Karen for the nomination!
Awarded January 11, 2001
"Angel, I have the list ready.”“When do they close?”
“Open all night - specially for the sun-shy, so you can go anytime. But you know, it would be really, really great if you went now.” Cordelia hobbled into her kitchen.
“Now?” Angel turned around from the bench, potato peeler in one hand.
“Yes.”
“I haven’t finished peeling the potatoes,” he said, waving at the small pile of vegetables as though they could save him.
“I’ll manage. Here’s what I need.” The hand-written list was pushed into Angel’s palm. “You’ve got the Ralph’s Club card? And some real money?”
“Yes,” he said patting at his pocket.
“You need to swipe the card at the check-out, otherwise I won’t get the discount from the coupons I logged in. And remember, if you can’t find....ask!”
“You told me. Where am I going again?”
“Ralph’s...Beverly Hills...West Beverly Boulevard.”
“But isn’t there a grocery store a few blocks down...”
“Angel, it isn’t a Ralph’s! And the Beverly Hills Ralph’s is just .... well, Ralphier!”
“It has food.” The argument seemed perfectly logical to Angel.
“Look...Angel...I know this is just another day for you, but for me it’s Thanksgiving and I haven’t exactly had much of a Thanksgiving the last few years and we have Miss Society Girl joining us and I won’t serve her Alvarado Corner Deli cold cuts. Besides, I’ve been collecting Ralph’s on-line coupons and I can get a member’s discount on other stuff. You might not have noticed, but we aren’t exactly rolling in cash, Angel.”
Angel folded the list neatly and surveyed the slightly frazzled face. Guests for Thanksgiving lunch and a sprained ankle combined to make a fragilely frayed Cordelia. Several times he had tried to soothe Cordelia by downplaying the lunch, reminding her that it was only Wesley, but as only Wesley was bringing along his girlfriend Virginia ..... well, Cordelia was frazzled.
“You see this mark on my forehead?” He pointed at a seemingly blemish-free area of skin.
“No....I don’t see anything,” she said, peering up at his face.
“You should, it’s deep enough.....It’s a thumb-print.”
“A thumb....? Wait a minute! I do not have you under my thumb....I’m just...persuasive...aren’t I?”
“Very.” Angel popped a tiny kiss onto her brow.
“Anyway,” justified Cordelia, “I’m doing you a favour!”
“Sending me eight miles across town the night before Thanksgiving is doing me a favour?”
“You’ll see...lunch tomorrow will be wonderful.”
“Cordelia...”
“Yes, yes, you don’t eat....but you could at least try some food after all the effort I’m making! By the way...your blood tomorrow... how do you feel about a spoonful of cranberry....”
“No.”
“But it would add a touch of Thanksgiving?”
“No....thank you.”
“Turkey gravy? Lump-free?”
“I’d better get going.”
“You see? I can take that as a ‘no’. Not under my thumb at all!”
Supermarkets. An evil force that oozed from primordial volcanic cracks, spreading and growing since the dawn of time. Or, so Angel thought.Angel stood in the crammed parking lot of the Beverly and Doheny Ralph’s. His measured gaze took in the flow of people and the snapping, sliding doors.
He was ready.
He could do this. More than that...he could do this, alone.
In the fullness of time.
Angel turned away and ran his hand along the rump of his night black car. A nice car.
The doors continued to slide and snap behind him, the noise of evening shoppers hurrying back and forth for their last minute Thanksgiving fare.
He could do this.
He only had to square his shoulders, stride through those doors as they slid open and collect the items on Cordelia’s list. Easy.
A nice car but it needed a shine.
The shopping cart glided effortlessly from the nest.So far so good. Item one completed.
*Item 1. Pick up a shopping cart. Don’t think you can put everything in a basket. You can’t. Check the cart for wobbles and pulling before you start. If you can’t find...ASK!*
Angel clutched the piece of paper in his hand.
*Item 2. Turkey. At least 16lbs. Fresh, not frozen. Don't come home without it.*
A nearby large “Turkey” sign indicated to Angel the presence of turkeys. He moved confidently towards the display. Two women leant over the mass collection of tomorrow’s lunch. Sunglassed and scarfed, they examined and poked each specimen. Angel stood back, waited and, while he waited, tried to work out why on earth the women were wearing sunglasses not only at night, but inside.
A large man, black coated, his eyes hidden behind dark glasses, ambled alongside Angel.
Angel looked at the man. More ridiculous glasses.
The man looked at Angel.
Angel, discomfited, retreated to small talk.
“Waiting on the turkeys?” he nodded his head towards the two ladies.
The man glared at Angel, twiddled at his ear, croaked into his coat lapel and glared again.
Angel glared back before turning his attention once more to the turkeys.
“Look at this turkey, Charisma!” one of the women emerged from the display proudly bearing a large bird. Angel watched. Why would you want a turkey with charisma? How did you know if a lifeless trussed animal had charisma?
The two women finally moved on. The burly bodyguard next to Angel moved with them.
Angel had the dead birds to himself. He found a sixteen pounder that seemed reasonably boring and hoped Cordelia wouldn’t be disappointed.
*Item 3. Pumpkin Pie. Not the Sara Lee one. Go to the Bakery section and ask. *Nicely*.*
Angel wondered if he should be offended at the emphasis on 'nicely'. When had he not been nice? He wandered the length of two aisles before locating the Bakery. Thousands upon thousands of other people were already there. Angel stood at the back of the line and waited.
Hours later, or so it felt to Angel, the Pumpkin Pie was safely stowed in the cart next to the turkey. He pushed himself to a quiet spot and smoothed out the crumpled list for ‘Item Four’.
*Item 4. Dinner rolls. Six. Get these at the Bakery as well.*
Angel looked back in dismay at the crowded area. He returned to the end of the line and waited.
*Item 5. Turkey Gravy. Large jar. It will be on the shelves with other gravies. Look for the sign that says “Gravy”. There’s a low fat brand, don’t remember the name. Check the side of the label for fat content. Get the one with the lowest number. Don’t believe the advertising blurb.*
Comparing products. This hadn’t been in the agreement. Angel pushed his way up and down three more aisles. He found the aisle marker reading “Gravy”. A turkey gravy, garishly (and obviously truthfully) marked as 99% fat free, blared its presence on the shelf. Angel gratefully added the jar to his cart.
*Item 6. Stayfree. Thin, long with wings. Check the pack carefully for the right one. Near the toiletries. Important. Your un-life is on the line.*
Wasn’t all the list important? Cordelia had impressed on him, several times, the necessity for a successful Thanksgiving banquet. Obviously a stayfree was was an essential part of the festivities. Angel set off on his journey through the aisles. It was a long, baffling walk. There was no food at that end of the store. *If you can’t find....ASK!* glared at him from the top of his deteriorating list.
Around the corner of the next aisle, Angel found a Ralph’s employee busily restacking Cranberry Sauce.
“Excuse me, I need to get a pack of Stayfree for Thanksgiving lunch. Can you tell me....”
He didn’t need to finish. The young girl quickly straightened, flashed a nervous smile and backed away down the aisle. Angel, relieved that an ‘ask’ achieved such instant results, smiled back happily and waited for his long, thin, winged stayfree.
Several minutes passed. Angel wondered if the girl had to go to the other end of the supermarket. Maybe he had been looking in the wrong section. Suddenly, the tousled head of the shelf-stacker whipped into view at the end of the aisle. Angel smiled and raised his hand. He was still here. Waiting. The head made a gasping noise and disappeared.
A neatly dressed young woman rounded the end display and purposefully made her way towards Angel. She held his gaze, unwavering, and stopped within two paces.
“Hello, my name is Penny. I’m the manager. May I help you?”
“I thought the other girl was getting it for me,” he mumbled, confused.
“What, exactly, were you looking for?”
“Oh, this.” Angel pushed the bit of paper towards Penny. “Number six. A stay free, but,” he explained, “it has to be thin, long and have wings for thanksgiving. Is it...is it a type of chicken?”
The manager looked up from the list. “Your girlfriend sent you shopping?”
“Yes...no...well....”
The store manager took pity on the handsome, confused man. Not that his looks had anything to do with the compassion. Not at all.
“Follow me.”
Angel did as he was asked.
In the next aisle, a blue and white bag was put into his hands. “This is what she wants.”
Angel looked blankly at the package. “Stayfree Ultra Thin.”
“Congratulations. It’s obviously your first time,” she grinned and walked away.
Angel squished the pack between his hands. “Longer for the coverage you need.” Soft. “Cottony soft comfort.” A light began to flicker in Angel’s head. He turned the package over. Angel read the information, muttering under his breath “.....protection for even your heaviest....”
The package was quickly and neatly stowed under the bag of six dinner rolls.
*Item 7. Two bottles of wine. Only the wine on special. Beringer Founders Estate Wine. A Chardonnay and a Merlot. $5.99 each. Don’t come home with a $70 bottle of Penfold’s! Much as I would like to try some....Virginia will just have to get used to the less expensive varieties, like I did.*
Angel finished reading Cordelia’s short essay. Wine should be straightforward. The last item was Chocolate Chip Icecream. Angel knew all about icecream. Icecream he could manage.
The last wait of the evening was at the check-out. Angel leant on the shopping cart and nervously inspected his worn list. Just in case.
*Line up at the check-out. Choose the shortest line. Have the Ralph’s Club card ready, it’s in your wallet. When the checker tells you the total, give her the money! Call me on the cell-phone if you have any problems.*
Right. Angel was only too pleased that he hadn't called Cordelia for help. She would never have to know just how far out of the feminine hygiene product loop he had really been. Angel shuffled forward a few feet. The enthusiastic and cheerful voice of the checker claimed his attention as she merrily wished each shopper a Happy Thanksgiving. A chatty checker.
Eventually Angel had his turn. He loaded the purchases carefully onto the check-out, the Stayfree still nestling discreetly under the dinner-rolls, and stood with Cordelia’s Club card at the ready.
“How are you tonight?” The turkey was pushed through.
“Er..fine.”
“Last minute shopping?” The pumpkin pie quickly followed.
“Um...yes.”
“Thanksgiving with family?” The dinner-rolls were zapped.
“Uh-huh.”
“Oh you’re lucky!” The blue and white pack was painfully exposed. “I won’t get to see my family until Christmas!” The checker, her name was ‘Wren’ according to the name tag, tossed the soft bag from hand to hand as she chatted. “They all live over east.”
“Oh.”
“By the way, paper or plastic?” Wren asked with a smile.
“Pardon?”
“Paper or plastic?”
Confused, Angel groped for the list in his pocket. Cordelia had written nothing about plastic or paper.
“It doesn’t say....I don’t know.”
“Would you like to decide for yourself?” Wren asked.
Angel was at a loss to decide how to make a decision when he didn’t understand the question. Paper money? “Could you give me more information?”
“Well, plastic bags are easier but not very green and the paper bags are greener but more awkward.”
“Bags?” Angel sighed. “Plastic, please.”
The Stayfree was finally laid to rest next to the turkey and within a few minutes, Angel safely navigated his way back to the car. He looked at his watch. Three hours for seven items.
“It was a breeze. Really.” Angel deposited the grocery bags on the kitchen table.“You were gone for so long! I was about to call Wesley.” Cordelia reached into Angel’s jacket and pulled out his cell-phone. “And these things are really useful when turned on!”
“I forgot and the place was busy, lots of lines. I, er...got you...” Angel offered a large bunch of brightly coloured hot-house flowers to Cordelia.
“For tomorrow, right?” She took the bouquet and sniffed delicately at the blooms.
“Well, actually...”
“For me...as in, just me?” Cordelia smiled up at Angel.
“Yeah. They looked pretty.”
“Hey, I’ll have to send you shopping more often!”
Angel paled. “Please....don’t.”
“Oh, by the way, I was experimenting with your blood....” Cordelia hobbled to the refrigerator and pulled out some small cups. “Do you think you could just try a sip and see if you like any of them?”
“What did you do?” he asked tentatively.
“Cranberry sauce....tarragon mustard....rosemary and garlic.” Cordelia indicated each cup of blood in turn.
Angel sighed and rubbed at his head.
He didn’t see the thumb-print on his forehead disappearing any time soon.
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Disclaimer: The characters are Joss Whedon's, Mutant Enemy's and probably a heap of other people about
whom I know nothing.
I lay no claim to ownership of the characters, I simply like to ask them out to play now and then.