Dear Diary,
Ipod Song: “Yo No Se Mañana” by Luis Enrique.
A crisp 54 degrees and I’m bundled in winter clothes. Leather boots donned my legs as my tennis bag was slung over my shoulder. Hopefully, these thick layers will be my zombie biting salvation. Fortunately, no zombies in the bike shop. Christmas again?! I’ve always wanted a shiny new racing bike and a pink helmet. A box of health bars?! Don’t mind if I do.
Thinking on an empty stomach always makes me cranky and my day was going to be chock full of errands. Raiding a sushi shop sounds like a good idea. Let’s get our fill of sushi in before all the sushi in the world goes bad forever. Call me sentimental but I didn’t want to have another sushi craving for awhile.
Luckily for me, a sushi supermarket is located close to my house. Marbles probably would have had a ball there but he was too big for my bike. I poked a large enough hole in the window mesh in case I didn’t make it back and he needed to escape. Be safe, little buddy. I’ll be back before you know it.
5 minutes later and my shiny new bike is parked by the supermarket door. I pry the door open just enough so my body can squeeze through. My racket bag slides against the pristine floor. With a racket in one hand and a pan in the other, I ventured in.
As a sushi enthusiast, nothing is as beautiful as an array of sushi fish and seafood that is left unattended. The ice had not yet melted so there was still some hope left. I grabbed the plastic roll, tore off a bag and grabbed the nearest knife. It was magical and surreal as I was hacking off chunks of sushi: Sake, Maguro, Shiro Maguro, Yellowtail, Tai, Unagi, Toro, you name it. As I was filling up a fifth bag, I heard a distinct rustling. Shit, I can’t die in a sushi supermarket. More rustling. Adrenaline does funny things to you: your breath speeds up, your pupils dilate, your saliva production slows down or stops and your heart rate speeds up. Even through the five layers of clothing, a chill traveled down my spine.
One foot in front of the other. All of a sudden, a zombie popped out of the back room and lunged towards me. One swift forehand at his head and he stumbled. A second whack from behind. In the next instance, I was ramming the broken handle into his rotting head. Finally, he stopped moving.
A quick scan around the room as my breathing was slowing down. Another rustling, closer to the front of the store. I hastily pulled another racket out of my bag. My sweat glands were in overtime and my heart was about to jump out of my mouth. Right as I was going to whack the shaking plastic boxes, a puppy covered in dirt popped out. Poor thing, he seemed more scared than I. I bent down and took a look at the name tag: “Henry Stud Muffin.” “Good lord,” I thought as I mentally face palmed myself.
It was starting to get dark out. I searched the store and emptied a duffle bag. I stuffed the full sushi bags, several handfuls of pre-packaged Ikura, two knifes with coverings, a roll of twine, a pair of heavy duty gloves, fresh vegetables, a couple bags of chips and six water bottles into the duffle bag while I carefully put the puppy into my book bag. He was so tired, he didn’t even make a sound. I grabbed some of the twine and I forcefully tied two boxes of ramen to the bike’s handlebars. “That’s enough adventures for one day”, I thought as I biked back home.
Back at the house, I gave Marbles a huge hug and kiss. He was such a good boy. I closed the window that had been partially open and placed Henry in the shower area. After pouring two bottles of water on the little furrball, he was as good as new. With my remaining energy, I cooked us up a feast. Sushi, Ikura, vegetables, steak and ramen for everyone!
All this food was making my blood rush to my stomach and it has been hard to think straight. I tiredly check all the windows and doors before cozying up next to Marbles and Henry on the bed. Yawn.
Good night diary,
Samantha
Crackweasel Strikes Again 