Load of Laundry

If you haven't noticed, I have decreased the number of times I post to about once every other day. So I decided to make it purposeful!

"Hello," The same lady I talked to so awkwardly the other day said to me.
"Oh hi!" I said warmly, the smile on my face genuine, because I was managing to be friendly. "Oh, can I ask you something--do you sell lard?"
"Let me put these eggs down and I'll show you where that stuff might be."
We made small talk on the way there.
"Wow, you have coconut oil! I am definitely going to buy some!" I said, knowing that Mama would approve.
Finally with my arms full of groceries I got to the checkout.
I slid my card, but the thing said "not approved" or something to that effect.
Okay, worst case scenario: I have to go home without my groceries. For some reason I always think, "Well that's the worst case so it's not going to happen." But of course that isn't accurate.
The worst case happened.
I rode my bike home, carefully balancing the pile of unwashed laundry on the back of the bike and sweating in the pre-rain humidity. I was annoyed by the defensiveness of the cashier and manager as they looked at me through those eyes I knew so well, that try to hide the accusation that hides the fear of being wrong. And now we had nothing to show for an hour's labor and the clothes needed to be washed but it was about to rain.
I prefer not to end on such a note.
Here's a quick scene from later.

"Ephraim," I said with determination. "I need to make a rap."
He looked at me with unveiled disgust.
"Can you help me?" I said, regardless.
"No." He said, shaking his head. "If it's a rap..."
"Okay..." I said. Well what do I do now; I want his abilities. "Then I need to make a poem."

The End