The Boston Diaries

The ongoing saga of a programmer who doesn't live in Boston, nor does he even like Boston, but yet named his weblog/journal “The Boston Diaries.”

Go figure.

Friday, August 23, 2002

The Rubber Chicken of Discontent

The four of us, Spring, her two kids, The Older and The Younger and myself, were walking through the local Wal★Mart Supercenter; rather, Spring was walking and I was pushing a kid-laden shopping cart. The Older was riding in the main basket while The Younger was laying down on the bottom shelf of the cart.

Turning the corner in the grocery section, I see an arm shoot out and snatch a rubber chicken off the floor.

A rubber chicken.

Leave it to a kid to find a rubber chicken lying on the floor.

Immediately both kids start barraging Spring with pleas to keep it. Can we keep it? We promise to share. We won't break it. We'll take care of it! Can we? Huh? Huh? Pleeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeease?


The final answer came down. The cashier didn't know if Wal★Mart even sold the rubber chicken we found. And Spring wasn't about to search the Wal★Mart Supercenter.

And thus we left behind the rubber chicken … the Rubber Chicken of Discontent.

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