ginny_t | Going out of order...

... because the creamed corn can of justice has been eating my brain for almost 12 hours now.

seangaffney's three things were:
The feeling that you've forgotten something vital.
A can of creamed corn.
Justice.

"Don't forget the creamed corn," Alex said, stretching as far as he could to try to reach a can from the shelf.

"Let me get it, you'll pull them all down," his older sister Fran said, exasperated.

I barely heard. Something was wrong, I'd forgotten something. What was it? It wasn't anyone's birthday, was it?

I was just starting to think I was remembering when Alex shouted: "I don't like that! I want more creamed corn!"

I jumped and looked. They'd moved down the aisle a little, standing in front of the canned fruits. Fran was holding a can of fruit salad, the kind with extra cherries. Alex was hopping up and down in 5-year-old rage, but still couldn't quite reach the arm his sister held high.

I noticed that other people in the grocery store had turned to look at the commotion. One older woman shook her head disapprovingly at the sight of the boy and his older sister arguing in the store. I scowled.

Then I noticed that one man, about 40 or so, was staring at me. He looked pretty disapproving, too. Oh god! Did I forget to put on pants? Is that what I forgot? I fought the urge to look down, check to see that I was fully dressed. But no, if Fran didn't tell me I wasn't dressed, Alex would have.

I noticed that the other two had moved on to another aisle, and hurried after, still trying to remember what I had forgotten.

As I turned the corner, Alex, with a typical 5-year-old's short attention span, asked his sister: "Frannie, what's justice?"

"Don't call me Frannie!" she complained. 14-year-olds can be so prickly about their dignity.

"What's justice?" he asked again.

A woman's particularly ridiculous flower-print shirt caught my attention. Did I forget to water the flowers? My plant was doing so well, I didn't want to harm it through my typical neglect. Oh, god! Did I leave the stove on? The water running? Did I feed the cat? Oh wait, the cat would've started chewing on me if she got hungry enough.

"... so, when someone does something bad, they're punished," Fran was explaining. "If you're bad, you'll be punished, and if you're good, you'll be rewarded."

"Um, that's karma," I said absently.

Fran frowned. "Okay, how would you explain it?" she demanded.

I shook my head absently. I noticed that Alex was now carrying his precious can of creamed corn. That must've been how Fran managed to calm him down after the fruit salad incident.

Maybe it was something here that I forgot. Mrs. Smith wouldn't be happy if we forgot one of the things she sent us for. Eggs? Bread? Milk? No, we had all of those, and this felt like something more important than just eggs.

"Stop! He's got my purse!" I heard a woman yell. I turned to look. A teen boy was running from the woman in the floral shirt, her purse in his hand.

He was coming straight at us, running at full speed, two men in pursuit. I grabbed Alex to pull him out of the way. As I pulled him, the can fell out of his hands. The boy didn't notice and one of his running steps landed on the can. His feet flipped out from underneath him and he landed on his back with a loud thump! I winced in sympathy.

Alex laughed the high-pitched laugh of a child. "It's the creamed corn can of justice!" he exclaimed.

I groaned inwardly, sighed, and gave up on remembering whatever it was that I'd forgotten.

Up next (probably later this afternoon),

mmarques's items, because a two-headed dog turned out to be easier than I thought. (And because I can't resist the combination of Paris and crêpes!)