Jealous little man

You'll never guess what's just happened!

Well l mean, like, who DOES that?

I was clearing all the debris off of the counter top. Stuff that was left at the deli. I usually look after fruit n veg, but the old guy who works here was off sick again. Knee probs. Anyway. So l hear this blood curdling gurgle of anger. What the hell? A guy ran past us. Me sorting cheeses and Mikey at fish. He was waving this A4 bit of paper and as it was directly in front of the long counter, l could see him confronting his target.

The woman had just bought a few bits n bobs from me. Olives. Fruity couscous. Slice of salmon quiche. Nice and friendly, well dressed. 'Please' and 'thank you' type of thing.

Boy, was this guy wild. I thought he was going to deliver an under the chin punch.

'YOU FUCKIN' BITCH. I found this receipt in your things. I now know why you couldn't see me at the weekend. You were with HIM, weren't you. This receipt. For a double room. Yeh. I was snoopin' in your bag. I had a gut feelin'. I've done everything for you. Every fuckin' thing, an' you're seein' HIM. Admit it. Go on. LYIN' BITCH'.

I had a bird's eye view, straight down the yogurt and dessert aisle. I picked up my roll of paper towel, and pretended not to notice the caffuffle in front of me. Head bent, eyes hidden under my jauntily placed hygene cap.

Ding Ding. 'Seconds awaaaaay. Round 2'

Replacing the Organic Greek Yogurt, the woman recoiled, incredulous at the sight before her.

'Hey hey. Calm down. Ssssssshhhhhhh. What ARE you jumpin' up n down about now'.

'THIS. How do you explain THIS. I've got MUG stamped right across here, eh? You fuckin' dirty bitch. Get off me. Leave me alone'.

Wow. C'mon now. That's a bit OTT. It's 6.20pm on a Sunday, mate. Easy does it.

The full trolley was left as the women chased after the geezer. He was tearing up the sheet of paper and throwing it behind him as they ran towards the huge lifts.

I managed to pop out from behind my counter, wipe-wiping the glass front, but even on tip toes, l couldn't see where she had persuaded him to go for a calming down explanation.

Well. I guess l'd better call the floor manager. Those frozen petit pois won't put themselves back. Hey ho.