In Need of Protection...

Ok. So it's cold. And I'm sweaty. A new dark has just fallen on this evenings sky and the crazies are starting to get a little more brazen, a little more vocal. I pushed through them, shoulders a-swingin'. I was on a mission. Determined. Determined for success. And I couldn't let these natives break my concentration, because I would lose. Lose my will. Lose my strength and most importantly...lose my courage. Eyes straight ahead...I made it the very grueling five feet into the safe revolving arms of our neighborhood Walgreens. Ah, sanctuary. Now then, where do they hide the condoms? Momma's got some sexin' to do. I start down the girly make-up aisle. Maybe, just maybe... paint up your face all nice and pretty just to get down and dirty? No no. that's all wrong. Next aisle: shampoos, conditioners, travel items... a quick stroll proved that this was indeed the wrong isle as well, even after giving a closer look at the locked up razor blades (which humorously enough are placed right next to the corn and wart ointments--which twice as humorous, I think I scared away an already nervous looking man because of my prolonged close proximity browsing). Alright, alright, alright....back to the locked up razor blades: I was prepared to go fetch someone and request their assistance in releasing my desired treasure from this plastic lock box. However, Fortune smiled upon me and told me to press on! Onward to the Hallmark aisle... (Note: I didn't really think this was were they would be nestled, but my new thought was perhaps near the Pharmacy and the Hallmark aisle was the most direct route). And this! This is where: enter the universal grandmother from stage left. Oh, she was placed perfectly with her stocking cart, right in my way. I paused. Hesitated. And as I planned my awkward maneuver around her elderly inflated posterior, she cornered me, "Can I help you with something Miss?" -- I swallowed, put my eyes down and politely refused her offer, assuring her that I knew what I was doing. The flushing in my cheeks must have given it away. So naturally the flight instinct kicked in and I ran. Ran so fast out of that linear encampment. Enough of that. Now, I was done wasting time: I had to think. Statement. Statement ends w. a period. Period. Pads. Tampons. Trojan MAAAN! Bingo. Two aisles over (for some reason it makes sense to separate Hallmark from Female Hygiene/Sins with Pet Food). So I'm here. Success...well, maybe it's a bit early to call it that. Now which one. I see, Trojan Lubricated, but only in a 3 and 36 pack. Well, easy enough decision... but....what's this...what are these numbers here....26 DOLLARS? Well, now I'm appalled. My concentration has just shattered on the ground. The fear and flight start sneaking in; it's really too cold for sex anyway. Got to feed the dogs. I'm sure there is a roof somewhere the needs some roofing done. All more important things than sex (these are the excuses I start coming up with). The last shred of determination forces/allows me to scoop up the remaining concentration on the floor. And as I'm struggling to assess exactly how much determination I have after The Shattering Earthquake and if it will be enough to ndeed lead to me success, I start wrestling with the idea of abandoning the condoms all together. I really could use a swig of chocolate milk. My heart rate is up. And then, right as fear was about to win out... who comes around that corner? But everyone's favorite universal grandmother. Our eyes lock once again (perhaps it was those bifocals-- a large target that I couldn't avert) and she says, "Oh, good. Looks like you found what you were looking for then." Stubborn and prideful. I squared up, picked up those shattered shreds. I can take a bitch down if need be, but no. I said, "oh yes" and promptly turned on my heel. Now, the next phase, I approached the cash register....