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Something happened today.
They told me to go to Aldi. The prices are good. Selection is top-notch.
But they never told me about the Aussie swordsman who shops every Thursday at 2 p.m.
I pulled up in my Kia Sedona with my 6-year-old son and 4-year-old daughter. They both wanted to put the quarter into the shopping cart slot. They passed it back and forth, picking their noses and eating the boogers as if I didn't notice.
"Stop picking your nose after you touch dirty money," I said.
"It's shiny, not dirty," my daughter pointed out.
"Okay, just put it in the slot," I said. Both kids tried at the same time to put the coin in and pull the carts apart and the quarter fell to the ground. Their little fingers struggled to gain purchase as they fought in earnest over the coin.
"Let me help," I said. They refused my aid.
That's when the Aussie showed up.
"She's a fussy little c*nt, eh?" he said. Immediately enchanted by every American's favorite accent, I turned, hoping to find a man resembling either Steve Irwin or Crocodile Dundee. No such luck.
The man was short, balding, sweating despite the cool afternoon. Camo cargo shorts came down to this mid shins. His Def Leppard t-shirt had the sleeves torn off and was yellowing with age. A charming fellow.
"Here's a trick," he said. "You don't even need a quarter. Just stick something flat and round right into her little c*nt and she'll come loose from the bunch."
The Aussie unsheathed a literal katana from where it was strapped to his back. He fumbled around for a moment, shoving the end into the coin slot on the shopping cart and actually pulled it free from the locking chain. The kids were still fighting over the quarter on the ground and hadn't noticed the Aussie or the sword.
"Here ya go," he said as he swiveled the cart in my direction.
"Oh, you go ahead and take it," I told him. "We'll get the next one, thanks."
"Nah, nah, mate," he said with a grin. "She's all yours."
"Thanks, man. Much appreciated," I said. I ordered the kids to quit fighting and told them to go in the store. My son finally grabbed the quarter and ran ahead as my daughter flopped to the ground and began to cry.
I picked up her limp body and stuffed it into the kid seat on the cart.
"Double wide," the Aussie said.
"What?" I said.
"Double wide carts." He was talking about the extra large Aldi shopping cart size. "The best kind of c*nt, eh?"
I'm a man who can appreciate an extra large cart when the time is right. My shopping list wasn't all that long though, and my daughter was screaming at the top of her lungs about the quarter, so I wasn't really in the mood to opine about large carts. And I was kind of sick of him saying c*nt over and over in front of my kids.
"Yeah, nice carts," I said. "Would you mind watching the c-word in front of the kids?"
"What? You mean c*nt?" he said, with unfeigned shock. "Nah, nah, mate. You got it all wrong. We Aussies don't use c*nt as a curse word. It's a compliment. What's more useful than a good c*nt? You see what I mean?"
"Ok," I said. I just wanted to get away from this guy, his foul mouth and his sword. As he worked on shoving the end of the sword into his own cart coin slot, I rushed in, hoping to stay ahead of him as I fulfilled my grocery mission.
I didn't even stop to smell the strawberries or check them for mold (there was a little mold). The raspberries were mushy too. I grabbed too many bananas, but they're all at a nice level of ripeness, so it's okay.
"My God, that's a nice f*ckin' pineapple (poinapple)!" the Aussie was holding a perfectly mediocre pineapple up to the light and turning it over in his hand.
"For God's sake," I muttered to myself. "It's not even a nice pineapple. I can tell it's unripe from here."
"He said a swear word," my son said.
"What?!" my daughter shouted at 100% volume, as is her custom.
"He said a swear word," my son said again.
"Which one?" my daughter wanted to know. My son looked at me square in the eyes.
"Fuh. Fuh. Fuh." he said.
"Fweind?" my daughter guessed.
"No, the one Dad says when he gets mad," my son clarified. He still hadn't broken eye contact with me. I trained him well.
"Let's go," I said, moving toward the cheese section.
"I'm going to check the watermelons," my son said.
"We don't need watermelon," I said. But it was too late. He was gone, leaning his body halfway into the 4-foot-deep watermelon bin.
"Buddy, let's go!" I shouted, but he was checking the watermelons. It was no use. To be honest, I don't care that he wanted to check out the melons. The problem was that the watermelon bin was right next to the onion bin which is where the Aussie was.
"Just look at those onions!" the Aussie said to my son, holding up a bag of yellow onions. "Ever seen a bag of onions like this?"
My son looked up from his watermelon excursion. "Yes," he said.
"There's six of 'em! All in one bag!" the Aussie said, bending down so he was eye level with my son, holding up the bag of onions. I don't know what he thought was going to happen, but when my son walked away without a word, the Aussie was visibly dejected.
"Hold on there, young man," he said. "Want to see something really cool?"
That's when he whipped the sword out again. Of course it was really cool. It was a frickin' katana. So, yeah, my 6-year-old son was pretty impressed by that.
"Watch this!" the Aussie said as he picked up a watermelon, threw it in the air and slashed at it with the sword (no, I'm not kidding). He missed and it hit the ground, cracking open. It didn't splatter like I always envision happening to a watermelon that hits the ground. It just cracked. It was lame.
At that, the matronly black woman who had been keeping her distance from across the produce section couldn't take it anymore.
"What the hell is wrong with you?" she shouted. "Put that gotdamn sword down! You gonna slash somebody up! Crazy ass mutha f*cka!"
I shouted my son's name and he bolted to my side. Good boy. I speed shopped the rest of the store. I had to get the hell out of there. Aldi is well organized and easy to navigate, so I completed my shopping list in about 4 minutes with plenty of staccato shouts at my kids to keep up and stop whining.
I could hear things coming to a head at the front of the store. The Aussie hadn't taken the berating very well. He and the other woman were in a shouting match.
As we wheeled up to the cash registers, there was an absolute traffic jam. I physically shoved people's stalled carts aside to reach the register, and nobody even complained. Everyone was gathered around watching from a safe distance as the Aussie slash up the entire produce section with his katana.
Chopped up fruit and vegetables littered the aisle and there was a crowd of shoppers lodged in the entranceway, nobody willing to step inside the store. It struck me then that nobody had their phone out to record a video. That was honestly the weirdest part of this whole thing. Everybody was just living in their moment of fear. It made me happy.
The Aussie was shouting about how everything was a c*nt, and I wondered why he'd told me the lie about c*nt being a compliment in Australia. I mean, he had to know I'd know he was full of it, right?
I don't know what this guy was thinking, bringing his katana into Aldi in the first place. He must have just been itching to show it off.
Anyway, the cops burst in and tased him half to death. He just kept screaming, "I'm white! I'm white!" as if being white meant you could free-wield an actual sword in the grocery store.
"I thought this was America! 2nd Amendment!" he shouted. "I invoke the 2nd Amendment, you silly c*nts!"
Now, I don't know any Australians personally, but I'd say in general we need to keep them out of this country.
And my kids are saying c*nt now.
The cheese selection at Aldi is pretty good, and very affordable. They have some organic produce, but it's hit-or-miss. Overall I recommend it.
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