A penchant for finding deals has always been part of my character. A few years back, when a local pharmacy announced its closure, my partner and I seized the opportunity to explore the discounted items. To our astonishment, it was the final day, and everything was marked down by 90 percent. Alternatively, we could purchase a large bag for just five dollars and fill it to the brim. Naturally, we are fans of the bag deal.
With ten dollars in hand, we dashed toward the health aisle, only to discover a barren shelf devoid of essentials like Pepto-Bismol and Tylenol. Instead, we found an oversized bottle of milk of magnesia. “We don’t even use that,” my partner, Mark, said.
“It’s practically free!” I responded, urging him to toss it into our bag.
Venturing into the skincare section, we encountered a similar situation. No moisturizers, shampoos, or cotton balls remained, but a plethora of Coppertone sunscreen caught my eye. “How did people overlook these?” I exclaimed as I added about twenty bottles to our haul. “This stuff costs a fortune!”
While exploring further, we stumbled upon a ridiculous display of banana slicers. “Who thought this was a good idea?” I mused.
“That’s absurd,” Mark agreed. “Using a knife is far more efficient.” Nevertheless, we snatched up a dozen.
Just then, an announcement blared over the loudspeakers: “Ladies and gentlemen, there are five minutes left!” Suddenly, panic set in. Mark and I split up to maximize our scavenging efforts. He hurried to the foot care section, while I headed for beauty products. Unfortunately, all that remained were used lipsticks, unappealing eyeshadows, and compacts that would only suit a mime. I quickly shifted my focus to greeting cards.
Amid the frenzy, I began grabbing anything in sight without even glancing at the cards. If they had matching envelopes, they were mine. Then I spotted some vividly designed book covers. “How did no one take these?” I thought, perhaps letting out an audible laugh as I collected forty packs. (Okay, they might not have been as artistic as I imagined; they resembled a first-grader’s messy painting. But the thrill of the hunt had taken over.)
Once back in the car, Mark and I laughed as we sorted through our absurd bounty.
“Uh, Mark,” I said, noticing seven packages of corn remover blades. “We don’t even have corns.”
“Well, what about this kidney disease testing kit? Did we really need that?” he chuckled.
Our bags were filled with items that even a thrift store would toss. Light bulbs for appliances we didn’t possess, greeting cards with bizarre captions, and a staggering $111 worth of sunscreen—more than we could ever use, even if we lived in the tropics.
Mark raised an eyebrow at the book covers. “What do you plan to do with those?”
“I thought we could hand them out on Halloween,” I suggested.
“Kids want candy, not book covers,” he replied.
“But we’ll be giving them candy too!” I countered. “This is just an added bonus.”
I was determined to prove him wrong. I envisioned the delighted expressions on the children’s faces when they received my creative gifts.
Halloween night arrived, and I stationed myself by the door. The first group of kids rang the bell, and I complimented their costumes while bestowing upon them a handful of chocolate and a package of book covers. Not a single child expressed gratitude. “This is the entitlement generation,” I thought. “They haven’t all been raised with manners.”
Next, a trio of recognizable characters, including Buzz Lightyear and Tinkerbell, arrived. I offered them my best candies—Kit Kats and Snickers—along with a book cover. Again, no response. Tinkerbell looked at me as if I had handed her a Brillo pad, and Buzz shot me a disapproving glare.
This pattern continued until an 8-year-old Batman and his 6-year-old sidekick knocked. I generously filled their bags with candy, but once again added the book covers. “She must be trying to get rid of these,” Batman whispered.
I retorted defensively, “No, I’m not! We bought these for you. Plus, I’ve given you quality candy—not those awful Mary Janes!”
Mark overheard the exchange. “You’re arguing with trick-or-treaters?” he said, closing the door behind Batman.
“I gave them candy! It was just an extra,” I huffed. “Little caped ingrate.”
“I told you so,” Mark replied. “You’re lucky our mailbox is intact.”
I remain perplexed. I would have appreciated book covers. Others resort to cliché giveaways like pennies and trinkets that serve no purpose. Now, I stick to the classic candy offerings, but if Batman returns, I have a banana slicer ready and waiting.
For those interested in home insemination options, check out our blog post on the impregnator at home insemination kit for guidance. Also, the Cryobaby home intracervical insemination syringe kit combo is an excellent choice for DIY insemination. For further information, you may explore this resource on pregnancy and home insemination.
In summary, the allure of bargains can sometimes lead to questionable parenting decisions, especially when it comes to Halloween treats. It’s important to know your audience, as the thrill of the hunt may not always yield the intended satisfaction.
Leave a Reply