The Criminal Inside Me

re-reading the scanned item list it occurred to me that the last item had not registered. I skipped a breath and concentrated solely on my attempts to slow my suddenly galloping heart rate, the swindle was on. But I was calm, casual and in peak condition to do this until the unthinkable happened. The screen changed from the receipt list to the alert questioning me 'had I brought my own bags?' I knew from previous excursions to the supermarket that this screen required the intervention of a member of the customer services staff retinue. From my left side I noticed the attendant begin to stir, crumbling from her stout stool like golem awaking from an antiquated slumber, a pumice of dust and cobwebs flowing from her shoulders. The first beads of sweat trickled down my forehead, their course ploting a memento; the trajectory of my awful deceit. Coughing a little to announce her new found alertness, the small golem began the slow trundle towards me. The second beads emerged, their trajectory now one of panic. Schemes raced through my head. "What of this unchecked item in your shopping, sir? I noticed it's not been scanned through! Were you planning to steal these, sir? I shall have to call security." She would exclaim in home counties fury. She had already traversed half the 12 yards from her watch to my location and I had nothing but my guilt to express.

   Suddenly and with an instinctive, desperate gusto, I span on my heel and faced her like a gunslinger preparing to draw. "What rice pudding?" I declared. She looked at me quizzically and shuffled on to the problem screen. I stood frozen in my bow legged, wide armed pose with only my shifting eyeballs tracking her as she passed me and swiped a card over the 'Have you brought your own bags?' sign and returned the confused gaze to me. But the motions were slow and I had time enough to retrieve a partial amount of my wits; I was able to pass the incident off as a tourettes outburst and her confusion turned to a look of slight fear. This caused her to retreat in backward stoops toward the stool from which she had arisen. It was like some sort of miracle, I chuckled to myself as I collected the shopping with the contraband rice puddings pots, for once happy to pay the 5 pence toll for the new shopping bag. The value of the booty covered this unwanted toll in droves. I went on my way and that evening, had one of the finest rice puddings that ever passed my lips.