Ah, there's nothing like driving across country. If you've never done it, may a complete stranger highly recommend it? There's a certain meditative quality to driving: the road in front is the future, inside the car is the present and, in the rear view mirror...the past. If your father dies of a heart attack in his own grocery store in Ohio and you're living in NY and hear the news and learn he has left his grocery store to you, then rent one of those door-less electric cars that looks like a golf cart and boogie across the country. Actually you might consider renting a normal car. The electric car seemed like a good idea at Avis, but it soon proved problematic. I missed the Holland Tunnel entrance, made my way up the Westside highway and found myself in some 'difficult' neighborhoods in Manhattan. When people are laughing, spitting and throwing things at the white guy in the 'punk-ass ride' one recognizes the inherent value of the door.
But all of that is behind me now...except that a trucker just hocked a loogie at me. Incorrectly judging the wind drag, the expectorated globule broke up before it entered my vehicle, thank god. I just had to wipe a few stray droplets from my swimming goggles. (My sunglasses flew off my head pulling out of the Avis lot forcing me to dig my swimming goggles out of my belongings.)
But, as I said, all of this is behind me. In my rear view mirror: the past. 16 years ago I left Ohio, my father, and the Greens & Grains grocery store to make my own way, to carve my own path, to shovel my own ditch, to hack with my own vorpel sword (And, no, that's not a metaphor for my penis). It was clear from birth that I was not a grocer. At four, after spying a rat in the loading dock (Which I'm sorry to report is a very common sight in a store. If you think your local grocery store is rat-less you are as mistaken as the restaurant customer who sends his food back expecting the cooks to refrain from spitting on it. Naïve!), I ran, arms flailing like a ninny, yelling "Daddy! Daddy! Rats! Everywhere! Rats, Daddy! Rats!" I cleared the store in a matter of seconds. I'll never forget the look on my father's face: disappointment. It was a look I was to see again prom night when my father answered the door to discover my date was Robbie McGlure. I tried to get to the door first, but, as always, was a step too late. It was then that he learned the truth: I couldn't get a date to save my life. He was half hoping Robbie and I were gay lovers but was disappointed when he realized that we were just incredibly unlucky with the girls. Put it this way: even the girls from Special Ed turned us down. Abbie Pluck was so upset with my advances she threw her helmet at me.
And so, like Galahad, it was time for me to leave Camelot and begin my own quest...a quest without brussle sprouts or bathroom cleanser. I was determined to make my way down a different aisle, an aisle that had everything in the universe twenty-four hours a day. Manhattan. The big apple. The melting pot. The Man-hattie. The Hat-on Mannie. (That last one is mine. I have t-shirts already printed and as soon as I get three more mavens and one more connector it'll reach the tipping point and I'll make a fortune.) It was here where I knew I'd be understood. It was here I knew I'd find my way. It was here, the city that never sleeps--where millions live, eat, sleep, excrete and die; the town that works despite its vermin populated sewers and urine dusted sidewalks...where I knew I would find a home. A home that didn't involve chuck roast or Liquid Plumber. I dove into the life of a businessman. It was time for the rise of Leslie Pool!
Unfortunately, the rise was little more than a hop. After failing out of a multitude of business schools, junior colleges and even an "F" from Trump's seminar at the Learning Annex, I decided to enter the school of hard knocks. And guess what? I was accepted! Sadly what I expected to be a desk job in marketing, turned out to be in the field. I was relegated to passing out fliers dressed in a suit constructed to replicate an enormous cup of drinkable yogurt. The eyeholes were hidden in the straw making it very difficult to see. When I accidentally stuck a flier down a woman's bosum causing her son to retaliate by shoving his toy light saber down the straw and bruising my cornea, I had an inkling that, like Galahad, my own quest was dead. There is no grail. Not for me. Not in this town.
I got word my father died and that he left me the store and, with a heavy heart, I knew it was time to head home. Immediately the warm memories of Ohio washed over me...except for a brief remembrance of our 79 year old neighbor, Mrs. Turner, offering me more than just a glass of lemonade after mowing her lawn that one time. Maybe I should have asked her to prom, eh?
And so here I am, friends of the Greens & Grains. The prince has returned to take over the crown and scepter of his spinach and cottage cheese encrusted kingdom. The sleeper has awakened. He's in the pike--five by five. He's cocked, locked and ready to rock. I may not be my father, but I think you'll see enough resemblance in our double helix to feel at home.
We all resist the fact that we are more like our parents then we'd like to admit. I have Groceries mainlined into these Pool family veins and it's time I embrace it. Of course that doesn't mean there won't be changes. No siree...I fully intend to turn this store upside down and clean out all the rolly pollies and slugs living underneath. This store is going to receive a thorough renewing revamp.
So come on in for our specials and a smile! Meet the new boss--same as the old boss (save the countless differences) and see the changes I'll be bringing to the store. In honor of the fresh clean new approach, all diuretics, home enemas and suppositories are 20% off! If it cleans you out, it's on sale. Thank you for shopping at the Greens & Grains!
