Walking the Beet, Stalking the Celery
So there I was, walking into a Giant grocery store and looking as innocent as I can without having kids with me. Mind you, that includes a long greatcoat in dark gray wool and a fedora hat, black, plus my jeans, but still – you know, looking slightly lost and checking my list while I pushed my cart. Innocent. The kind of guy who puts the kids to bed and sleeps the sleep of the just. At least, I think so.
As I took a few more steps into the store, I heard the loudspeakers crackle to life: “Security, aisle 6.” As I kept moving, it said, “Security, please scan all cameras in aisles 4, 5, and 6.” I looked up to see where that was in relation to me, not being too familiar with the store, and I realized I was right next to those aisles.
While I do not, as a rule, watch television, I don’t live in a bubble either, and I have a healthy enough sense of paranoia that I was perfectly happy to turn the heck around and not get involved or even be standing too close to something unpleasant. We live on the outskirts of the nation’s capitol, and sometimes “cleanup on aisle 9” is code for “kill all the witnesses and invoke the Patriot Act if anyone asks.” (Also, I just this morning finished a book called Never Say Spy that features the protagonist getting the tar beaten out of her after being jumped in public places, and there might be some lingering paranoia there. Good book.) So, I removed myself from the area of aisles 4, 5, and 6, and went over to the produce section.
“Security, please scan all cameras in Produce.”
I looked around. I was, for reasonable definitions of the word, alone. It was me.
I turned around several times, looking up for cameras, and waved as cheerfully as I could. “Hi! Guy in a black hat here! I come in peace!” No one said anything, no one approached me, nothing. Also, the lady with the loudspeaker seemed mollified, because she shut up too. I can only assume I looked like her ex-husband, or her CIA handler. A few minutes later I was looking for spices, and overheard two of the employees talking about it:
“She’s got to quit that!”
“I know, she said ‘Produce’ and I turned around and there was, like, only one person there!”
I couldn’t resist. “I know,” I said, “it was me. I looked around getting ready to duck or something and I realized I was the only one around. Whatever it was, I didn’t do it, I swear!” They cracked up, proving that they were really Giant employees or that they were under deep cover and very, very good at it.
I walked out later, thinking next time I’m yelling, “In UR Produce, Steelin UR Beets!” There’s a huge aftermarket trade for beets, yo. Beets, bitches!
Aries (The Ram): You might be all that, but if you don’t stop basking in your own awesomeness, you’re never going to get that proposal finished. Shut up and listen to yourself. Hear that? That’s the sound of you procrastinating, you lazy slug. Why are you still reading this? Get to work!
Taurus (The Bull): You know the difference between laid-back and passive-aggressive? Yeah, I’ll just bet you do. I used to drive a Taurus, and you know what? It was a lemon. I traded it in. For a pack of gum. 
Gemini (The Twins): You know you want it. This week, you’re going to get it. Be ready.
Cancer (The Crab): The Sagittarius two offices down from you wants your job and will stop at nothing to get it. They’re already sleeping with the boss. Cover your ass next week, or start surfing Monster.com. I’m just sayin’.
Leo (The Lion): Oh geez. Are you really going to wear that tonight? Was it on sale or something?
Virgo (The Virgin): Perhaps it would be best if you said nothing at all. This would be a good week to keep your pie hole shut. Capisce?
Libra (The Scale): You’re going to be invited to dinner this weekend, but you’re not going to go. You’re going to think about that invitation, wondering who else would have been there, while you’re heating up that shitty microwave diet food and feeling good about not drinking that beer that you know is in the downstairs fridge. It’s all OK. They’re having a lousy time anyway, and you going wouldn’t have helped. That restaurant sucks; they’ll never go back, and they’ll ask you on Tuesday how you knew. Don’t tell them you hate them. Just smile.
Scorpio (The Scorpion): Whoa, whoa, whoa, slow down there. No need to go all ninja on people just because you can. Last week was bad, but it’s over. Put it behind you, and next week try to keep the body count to a minimum. Zero is a good goal. Your lucky numbers are 13 and Pi.
Sagittarius (The Archer): I know what you did last summer.
Capricorn (The Sea-Goat): It’s your birthday, all week this week! Party on, Garth. Party on, Wayne. This is a good week to invest in that bullshit scheme your brother-in-law keeps trying to get you to give him money for. Party on.
Aquarius (The Water Bearer): OK Gunga Din, time to get serious about that degree. You can only fake it and make it on your looks for so long, and you’re what? 72? 73? If you ever want to be more than just “that guy who used to carry the bucket” you’re going to need to find some self-discipline. 
Pisces (The Fish): Why does it always come down to sushi? You’ve got some kind of sick, cannibalistic death-wish, don’t you? Are you still masturbating? Next week’s not a good week to stop. The week after that doesn’t look too good either. You’re not going to get laid so much as get hooked. Deal with it.