Your choice



Literally…this is gonna be your choice.
It’s my stab in the vein of a choose your own adventure.

Always remember to never forget…

You drive your suv into the parking lot of the airport sized grocery superstore.
‘Goddamn, im hungry.’ You think as you slide the key out of the ignition.
You scan the lot.
‘Look at that dick head.’ You Mutter to yourself as you spot a Ford Focus, not only crooked, but taking up two parking spaces.
You get out of your vehicle and lock your door as you continue to glare at the Focus.
You vow, once inside, to correctly identify the driver as you feel certain that they, too, will look like a crooked dickhead.
As you begin your trek toward the store, a mother with a cart full of value pack meat, prepared frozen meals, and little Debbie’s cakes makes her way past you. She is followed by, you assume, her brood of loud boisterous children.
Thankful you didn’t have kids, you keep walking but sneak a quick peek back over your shoulder.
Ah, the mother uses her blip to open the Subaru Outback hatchback.
You were confident she wasn’t the crooked dickhead, anyway.
As you get closer to the behemoth building, the automatic doors slide open, boasting a wide expanse of at least 6′ width ways.
‘Damn. Are people’s asses really this big?’ You ponder.
You step inside.
A kaleidoscope of vibrant color catches in your peripheral.
A natural representation of the rainbow spanning the section to your right.
You catch a whiff of freshly baked bread.
Now, you find yourself standing at the alter of ambivalence.
You clutch your mouth in your hand.
Your eyes quickly darting back and forth between the row of carts to the stack of baskets.
You absentmindedly tap your lips as you visualize a long baguette teetering out of a basket versus a lone baguette laying on the cold, steel expanse of the bottom of a shopping cart.
Basket it is.
As you approach the bakery department, you fake smile at the guy behind the counter who is deliberately ignoring you.
With at least a dozen to choose from, you choose your baguette wisely.
Slightly more golden than the rest.
‘It’s amazing what water oil, yeast and flour can do.’ You marvel.
You place the paper wrapped masterpiece into the basket, being careful it does not teeter.
You pause, looking back toward the produce section.
You would kill for a ripe, juicy tomato.
You concede to temptation and carry the crunchy on the outside, chewy on the inside artisan bastard toward the vine ripened jewels.
A recent overhead spraying has left the ruby red beauties shimmering with tiny droplets of water.
Look at them.
Your eyes widen and you salivate as you think about biting into the mother of all sandwiches in your very near future.
After picking two prized tomatoes, you meander toward the dry goods aisle.
You don’t know why, but you’ve really had a hankering for oatmeal recently.
As you weave your way through shoppers, you begin to wonder if you’ve been victim of a marketing ploy.
Unable to recall any oatmeal jingles, you deduce your craving to be nothing more than the innocence of nostalgia.
Blame little miss muffet.
What the hell is a tuffet?
It occurs to you that you actually know what a tuffet is.
You feel a sense of pride wash over you as you peruse the aisle.
You spot the oatmeal.
You scrunch your nose like the discriminating foodie that you are and push the row of plain oatmeal backwards a little before reaching for your favorite.
You palm the box like a basketball.
‘Maple and brown sugar, mother fucker.’
You notice a man in his mid thirties looking at you.

He has recently divorced dad facial hair.
You pause, realizing you had just said that aloud.
Apparently, he heard.
You casually salute the disheveled looking guy and place the oatmeal into the basket next to the baguette & tomatoes.
Once you reach the end of the aisle, you stop, pausing to take in new information that is being presented to you.
Directly in front of you is a huge selection of ‘cruelty free’ meat & dairy alternatives.
You raise a suspicious eyebrow as you slowly walk heel to toe toward the display.
You stand staring accusatorially down at the (rather impressive) options.
You blow air from your nostrils as you read some of the product names…
Kite hill nut cheese
Tofurky slow roasted deli slices
Field roast hand formed burgers
Daiya cheddar slices
Tempeh bacon
You grimace realizing that you now even abbreviate your internal dialogue.
You skeptically reach down and finger the tofurky package, until finally picking it up.
As you turn the package over, it occurs to you that you rarely read ingredients lists.
You let your eye trail down the brightly illuminated length of coolers.
About 15′ away is roast beef, honey roasted chicken & Black Forest boars head ham.
You wonder why a boar would advertise the flesh of its own species?
A soccer mom looking chick on her iPhone strolls past you.
She glances at you quickly before her eyes return to her phones screen.

…holy hell, you’d put money on it the Focus is hers!
You feel slightly conspicuous holding the tofurky, but your curiosity compels you.
Moment has arrived….

What do you buy?
A. Cruelty free?
B. Animal products?

Scroll down….

Go vegan & no one gets hurt.

Go vegan
Dig Out Your Soul