Short Story: Anthony Asda

Short Story: Anthony Asda

This piece has not been edited by the ShortbreadStories team.

Yawn. Where am I? Oh.... Morning Darling. Is that the sun I see shining through the gap in the curtains? The birds are unusually chirpy too. And is that the neighbours I don’t hear screaming at each other, and Nick not revving his car engine......Are you sure it's Sunday?

What time is it anyway? Your bonse is blocking my view of the clock. Ten?? God, I thought it was about seven. Funny that, the alarm clock didn't go “cock-a-doodle-doo” today and inform us “It's-eight-o'clock-a.-m” at nine twenty-five. Better get up then – for once I agree with you; it's far too beautiful a day to spend lazing in bed.

Yawn. Oh, thank you, darling. Nice to be pampered. Lovely bowl of choco-corn-pops, that. Disgusting cup of tea, but one out of two ain't bad. So, how shall we take advantage of this most unseasonably glorious sunshine? Fancy going to the Gower? No. Too far away? . Hmmm.....What about Ogmore-by-sea? Oh, in February the sea is still a bit cold for you, eh? Well, swimming in the sea isn't exactly an essential part of.......Ok, ok, forget that one…. I know! Why don't we cycle along the Taff Trail? Pardon? No, it's only the one part of the trail we've done thirty-six times already. We could always drive up to Castell Coch and do the next bit of the trail. No energy? Well, I that’s a fair point I suppose – it is all-downhill going there, so logically it would be all-uphill coming back....... Sigh! Then I suppose we’ll have to stay in Cardiff again. What's it to be? Nice stroll around Bute Park? Boating trip on Roath Lake, perhaps? My ideas battery is starting to run low here…..

You need WHAT? Oh, don't tell me - A 300g bag of hand-cooked salt and black pepper flavour crisps, perhaps? What do you mean, how did I guess? I didn't; I was joking. What, really? Honestly? Right now, this instant, on the first decent Sunday we've had for at least six months? But you've had all the evenings of this week to satisfy that “need”!

Actually, I should know better by now - I might have guessed that any suggestion I made would meet with the same glazed-over stare until one of us mentioned the dreaded “S” word. Eh? Who’s uncompromising? Oh, all right, all right – but, if I really have to accompany you yet again to one of those dreadful places on my day off, I demand to have the final say in where we go afterwards – you said it was all-uphill coming back from Castell Coch, right?

Yes, dear. My seatbelt is fastened. Is yours? No, I am not having a go, but if you will check up on me each time I set bum in this car, I can jolly well do the same. This is the age of Equal Rights For Women, you know. No, dear, I didn't bring the road map down. Because that's a man's job! Yes, my carrot and ginger salad is in the boot. And my zero-point vegetable soup, yes, and my two marmite Crackerbreads. Now, could we please at least think about moving off sometime before dark?

Mysterious silence…….Ah well, I’ll amuse myself by playing a game of “guess which alter-ego I’m going to be with today“. Tony Tesco perhaps? No, you said you were almost skint yesterday. So maybe one of the emergency identities then - Lidl Lad, or Kwiksave Kid…. Say-what? Have I seen the sign for where? Yes, it said Cardiff Bay Retail Park about half a mile back, dear. Just before the roundabout. Hey! Language! Well, sor-ree, but my clairvoyancy is on downtime right now – how am I supposed to know where to turn off if you're going to be so mysterious about our actual destination? Retail park…..Ah, must be the sophisticated Anthony Asda leading our expedition then.

Darling, does a packet of crisps really deserve that much respect? Honestly, you could fit the Empire State Building and its big brother into that trolley. Yes, I know you like to pick up your cheap-but-slightly-damaged “Whoopsies” on Sundays, but do you really think Asda are that clumsy?

Who said that? Eh-what? No, thank you, Madam. My house already has windows. I resent your implication that I am hypothermic. No, I don't want new ones, thank you. No, I don't want the old ones double-glazed either. A free quote? I'll give you a quote in a minute, totally free of any further politeness.... And you can stop rattling your tin in my face, young man – don't you recognise a tight-fisted Northern git when you see one? And one who is perhaps slightly unreadier than usual to part with her hard-earned (or more softly earned) readies, at that. Now, do I have to karate-chop you all out of the way to actually get to the doors?

God, I can hardly breathe in this place! Why, every weekend, do you suddenly have these desperate “needs” for things you can only get from the dreaded “S” places? Why couldn't we have popped round the offie on Coed-y-Gores and got plain old cheese and onion? What’s that you say about yobs hanging around the offie? But not on a Sunday afternoon - Yobs, at least in Llanedeyrn are no different from stars or dentures, they usually wait until after dark to emerge in their fullest glory. Awwww, come on! Don't be like that. I understand issues of addiction, remember. The paranoid – er, paragon, of virtue you see before you now was once a sixteen-stone chocaholic with a thirty-a-day roll-up habit. There's no shame in admitting. ..........Eh? What was that puff of smoke? Tony? TONY!!!

Where on earth.......? Fruit and veg section, most likely. No, not there. Odd! Cooked meats? Nope! Eyeing up the desserts? No sign. Perhaps he's fallen into one of the freezers again in his desire to become better acquainted with the price of a chicken quarter? Nada….Comparing coffee prices, or rummaging among the Rices of the World? Not a trace. Well, where on Earth……

A-HA! Foundja! I did ask you really nicely not to visit the biscuit aisle in my presence during the third week of each month. How could you FORGET? You know my willpower hits a major trough at......Moaning? Who's moaning? I am not moaning, if you please, I am emoting. It's good to express onesself. Keeping everything suppressed makes you ill, you know. Just because I am not an emotionally dead, shut down robot and prefer to focus on the more spiritual values in life...........OI, MISSUS! I was trying to get into this aisle first. No way! You move your trolley, you stubborn old battleaxe! Ooh, those look nice! Pardon? Oh, go on then, you've twisted my arm. I suppose I could stop for a moment and sample your new-recipe cocktail sausages with cheddar cheese on nifty little red sticks. Thanks very much....Mmmmm, lovely. Not sure the flavour compares favourably with my usual brand, though. Could I try another? Oh, yes. Herbier than my usuals I’d say. What's in them? I'm a bit funny about my herbs, you know. Perhaps I could try one more, just to make sure it doesn't taste of basil? Yum, delicious! May I take one for the road? And one for my other half here? Huh? Schizo-what? How dare you! He's right here next to m..................

But he was, honest! Well, charming, I must say. Oh, be like that then. With your back turned at least you won't see the rest of your sausages disappear. TONY!!!

Wish you’d tell me before you shoot off somewhere. What? You'll never touch another roast dinner? Ah, the ten-minute carnivore's guilt session by the Beanfeasts and couscous. What? Whose turn to cook? Mine. Oh, I thought probably roast beef, Yorkshire pud, roast spuds, roast parsnip, roast swede, roast onions and treacle pud for afters. I can roast that too if you like. Or I could do Beanfeast and mash. Ok, Ok, there's no need to take that tone, it was just a suggestion. No, you're quite right, dear – one more Sunday roast probably won't kill you. Yes, it is the thought that counts, and ten minutes of meditation in front of the Beanfeasts and couscous is, indeed, virtually vegetarian living. Yes, it is true that while you're doing that at least you're not eating meat......Now where are you going?

Ah, there you are! Been looking for you for ten minutes. What‘s with all the tins of Asda Value Baked Beans? You must have at least twenty there. Oh, a Bargain Not To Be Turned Down, eh? But the entire top half of your food cupboard is already jammed full with tins of Asda Value Baked Beans. You don't even like Asda Value Baked Beans – or any other baked beans, for that matter. Eh? How much in Tesco's? 10p. I see. Well, yes, I suppose at 9p a tin here, you do indeed save 50p by buying fifty tins. Not to be sniffed at, when you put it that way.

The Tastebreaks pot-snacks are on offer too, are they? How much are they in Tesco's, then? 72p? So, are you going to buy fifty of those too, and save a pound? Hold on, I'll just get us another trolley. Who, me? Nope, don't know the meaning of that one...Fasc....facetious? Just trying to be helpful.

So how much are Mini Cheddars in Tesco's, then? 57p. Not bad. How about packs of twenty Tesco's own fish fingers? 68p. Uh-huh. Six-packs of caramel-flavoured Snack-a-jacks? 95p? Fair enough. Okay, bet you won't know this one: packet of twelve strawberry-flavoured Mates condoms with ribs on? Really? One-ninety-nine? All right, you win – trying to catch you out obviously won't make anyone richer....Me? Bored? The very notion! Now what have you spotted? Hey, wait for me! I can't run that fast. Hang on! My ankles keep twisting over in these heels. TONY!!!

Oh, not again. Now where has he disappeared to? The next aisle? No. The one further down? The back of the store? The front? The near end, by the veg? The far end, by the alcohol? The checkouts? Nope, no sign. God, my feet are killing me! Let's do that one more time just to double check. Hang on, what was that announcement? I recognise the name. “Could Marion Moody please go to Customer Services.” Marion Moody......Marion M....Hey, that's me!

Oh, no, what now? What if in his haste to reach some obscurity on the top shelf he's managed to bring all the shelves underneath down with it or something? Or if he's gone to pay and left his wallet at home and wants to borrow fifty quid? No, let’s not catastrophise - perhaps he's just fallen flat on his face again trying to get first grab at the Whoopsie trolley.

Yes, Mr Customer Services, I am the partner of Mr Anthony Allen. Yes, yes, 5'11”, short, browny-grey hair, medium build, girlfriend who likes sausages. Yes, yes, that's him. Why, what's the problem? What? Taken to Heath Hospital? A & E??

And what do you think you're glowering at, Mr Nosey Parker? You’re ten times more conspicuous than me, I can tell you that- that's one hell of a shiner you've got there. And for goodness' sake, get yourself a tissue! All that blood spurting from your nose really is quite unsightly. What do you mean, my partner's fault?

And why is this old lady jumping up and down, shouting and swinging her handbag - In my direction, it seems? What? Someone stole her salmon? Awww, tut, tut! Of all the rotten, low-down tricks. Yobs, eh? What's that you say? Tony stole her salmon? How dare you! Just because he strides down a supermarket aisle with a certain air of misplaced enthusiasm does not automatically make him a checkout-shirker. You take that back this instant, Sir, or I'll.....

I'm sorry, Mr Security. No, I'm calm now, thanks…. I said I’M CALM!!!!! Ok, so this lady saw someone take something from her trolley. Uh-huh. And Mr Nosebleed was standing behind her at the checkout. Yes, and then Tony came up right beside him, Yes, yes, I see – still not quite with you on the A & E bit, though. Right - then Tony proceeded to help himself to a pack of Ebly cracked wheat from her trolley, Dear, oh dear; all this really is most strangely out of character. Those new Super Strength Vitamin B tablets from Lidl sure have a lot to answer for....Sorry, yes, carry on. After a thorough rummage in this lady's trolley, Tony went on to lift a large pack of smoked salmon and a tube of Primula Cheese Spread, then ambled off with his findings, then......Oh, 'scuse me a minute. That's my mobile. Damn thing, where is it? Hang on..............

Hello? Tony! Hi. What happened? How are you? Oh, that's great news; just a broken nose and three missing front teeth. Have they sorted you out up there, then? Ready for Castell Coch? No, I'm still in Asda. Customer Services have just explained it all to me. Er, there's an elderly lady standing next to me. Right next to me, actually. I think she'd like a word. Eh? Oh, about seventy-odd. Very large, black, slightly worryingly mobile handbag, decorative red sploshes on it. Yes, yes. You're quite right there, dear. It very obviously was not the Whoopsie trolley where you spotted the half-price smoked salmon. Isn't hindsight a wonderful thing?