under cover goose on the Titanic

Part 8 - Galactic Deli

As Miguel and I strolled home to the apartment at 6 Sumac, we sang Anti Smolkin's gruesome lyrics to Scarborough Fair and tried to figure a way to fit drool, mule, ghoul, gruel and fool into the song.

As soon I opened the apartment door, Pacman greeted us with his harness trailing from his mouth indicating his desire for a walk.

'It that a dog?' Miguel asked incredulously as Pacman sniffed at his credentials and welcomed him as an honorary member of his wolf pack. 'He has teeth like a piranha.'

I grinned. 'Pacman thinks he's a wolf but he's really a sabre tooth gerbil.'

'The board's fixable,' Miguel pronounced after a quick inspection of my broken skateboard. 'Why don't we take it to my place? We've got some epoxy adhesive.'

I stuffed the parts of my skateboard into my backpack and we set off with Pacman trotting in front. On the way, we stopped by the Galactic Fruit and Deli, the local corner store. Miguel needed more chocolate chip cookies and I could forage for freebies.

I tied Pacman's leash to the bike rack outside the store as Miguel swung into the glass doors and smashed his nose into the glass. 'Houston, we have a malfunction,' he announced rubbing his nose. 'Technically speaking, the automatic door is on the fritz.'

I pointed to the sign on the door, Exit - Do not enter, as I looked up and grinned at the infra red detector above the entrance.

Miguel rolled eyes. 'Klutz. That's not a camera.'

I gave him a triumphant grin as the door slid aside. 'I know that. We blonds don't emit enough heat from the top of our heads. I have to look up and open my mouth to trigger the detector.'

'Grab a basket,' Miguel instructed, 'and pretended you're not with me. They know me, here.'

The store appeared almost empty except for the checkout clerk, an overstuffed gorilla wearing a greasy ball cap backwards. He was listening to his MP3 and humming tunelessly. He didn't look like a galactic refugee. He seemed like any other Canadian. Hard to tell these days.

His small, black beady eyes watched us, without interested, as we each collected a basket and sidled along the produce counter. I recognized tomatoes, bagels and baked beans but everything else was clearly not of this world. Withered roots and shrivelled sea slugs shared shelf space with fossil fish bones packed in plastic. Salted entrails and freeze dried fungus seemed popular.

I looked around but Miguel had disappeared so I looked for the freebies. My heart lurched as I saw the extra-galactic butcher standing motionless behind the counter. He looked like the checkout clerk's twin and he glowered at me suspiciously.

'Er, um,' I stuttered. 'Ex- excuses me. Are there any free samples?'

The extra-galactic waved a meat cleaver. 'Over der,' he growled. 'Oi 'ave cheese a' cake but der's not much lef' o' der cake.'

He was right about the cake. There were only a few crumbs on the plate. There wasn't much cheese either, just two tiny pieces impaled on giant tooth picks. My stomach rumbled.

Mom had given me ten dollars for emergencies and I figured imminent starvation qualified as an emergency so I looked for Miguel in the cookie aisle. I didn't find him but I caught a glimpse of a small man as he passed the end of the racks. He was furtively dragging an aluminum briefcase on wheels. Mr Bragg.

He was probably only shopping for a jug of milk but I was curious. The store was dark, deserted and overheated and the checkout gorilla looked bored. He had abandoned the MPE player but his head was still jigging up and down in time to a wailing falsetto coming from a CD player on top of the cash. Galactic music? His beady black eyes followed me without interest until I was lost in the maze of boxes and racks.