So, last night, Doug and I took The Bean to a discount warehouse shopping center to make a couple of bulk-item purchases. The Bean and I were roaming around the bakery/deli area, when this lady (the hairnet and jacket indicated her employee status) carrying a rotisserie chicken came toward me.
"Would you like some chicken?" she said. I thought she was giving out samples, so I accepted. And then she put the whole chicken in my cart! It appeared she was selling chicken, not giving it away. So I told her I didn't want to buy a chicken. She said that it was free because they were closing. And then she said, "Do you think I just go around putting chickens in people's carts?" I don't know how these bulk-warehouse-employee types operate! They may very well do that. That would actually make the shopping experience kind of fun, having to run away from crazed workers trying to throw giant canisters of cheese balls and other large foodstuffs your way.
In the midst of all of this craziness, chicken lady looked at the Bean and said, "Oh, look at that little fat boy."
Don't be calling my baby fat, chicken lady! Yes, he is a little chubby, but it's not like he's spending his days on the couch scarfing down Ho-Hos and Root Beer (that would be me). Cut the child some slack, why don't you! I don't think babies should be called fat, even if it's meant nicely.
I don't know if the free chicken was worth it. The whole experience was rather scarring.
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