Spatula

Spatula

That was the only word Brenda managed to say before she passed out in the middle of aisle seven at the Bargain Mart. But, let’s rewind three hours.

Brenda McGillicuity age 42, a professional librarian and part time nacho enthusiast woke up that morning with one mission in mind or two actually. First she had to make her toast. Just plain toast, nothing special toast, no avocado or any other toppings. Second to bake her famous, and by famous, we mean once praised by a man named Greg at a church potluck, seven layer lasagna surprise. She had all the ingredients, pasta, cheese, and an identifiable green vegetable which may or not have been parsley. She also had a fire extinguisher near just in case. What she didn’t have was a spatula.

“I had a spatula.” Brenda mumbled to her cat, Mr. Whiskalot. “Then you used it as a boat for your hairball regatta.”

Sir Whiskalot coughed in a dramatic fashion and then turned and walked out of the room.

So, Brenda drove to the Bargain Mart which was always suspicious to her because of the cheap meat and the lack of shopping carts outside. She arrived precisely at 11:04 am armed with a list, a coupon for ten percent off all kitchen items beginning with the letter “S” and her stubborn sense of dignity.

She didn’t even make it to aisle three before her arch-nemesis, Carl with a clipboard shaped like a dog showed up.

“Hey Brenda! Carl shouted. Startling a man who accidentally knocked over a canned peaches pyramid. “Doing some kitchen shopping today?”

“Just here for a spatula. So, don’t start.” Brenda said.

Carl’s eyes narrowed. He was the self-appointed bargain survey enforcer. He adjusted his glasses and pointed his clipboard like it was a magical sword.

“Only take a minute of your time. I just wanted to know if you were a condiment. Would you be like spicy mustard, mild salsa or emotional vinegar?”

“Right all of them and more but more so emotional vinegar. So, please move.” Brenda snapped brushing past Carl.

Aisle seven was empty except for a little boy opening a bag of licorice and eating the pieces and a lady pricing and weighing avocados. Brenda weaved her shopping cart past them and zeroed in on the kitchen utensils rack and gasped when she spotted it. A single glorious rubber handled neon pink spatula. It was culinary perfection.

She reached for it. So did someone else.

Their hands touched. There was a brief but awkward pause. Brenda looked up and gasped.

“Greg?”

Yes, the same Greg from the potluck who once called her lasagna “surprisingly edible.” The Greg who had vanished into thin air right after complimenting her lasagna.

Greg blinked rapidly. “Brenda? Are you a cook?”

Brenda’s eyes twitched. “You said that you liked my lasagna and it was surprisingly edible and then you ghosted me right along with your deviled eggs.”

“I had food poisoning.” Greg said quickly.

“Oh sure you did. Blame the eggs. Everyone blames the eggs. Classic, Greg.”

They were still both holding the spatula.

“I need this.” Brenda said, tugging at it.

“Don’t make a scene Brenda.” Greg said.

“Don’t make me throw this cauliflower at you.” Brenda warned, pointing at a nearby bin.

Greg rolled his eyes. “Fine, we will settle this with rock, paper, scissors.”

“What are we ten?” Brenda said laughing.

He shrugged. “You scared? Afraid you will lose?”

And that is how Brenda ended up playing three rounds of increasingly competitive rock, paper, scissors with Greg in aisle seven while the lady from earlier who had been weighing avocados played the referee.

Round one: Brenda threw rock and Greg threw paper.

Round two: Defeat for Brenda

Round three: They both threw rock and then scissors and then paper. Then rock again.

The tension was thick when Carl returned with his clipboard and a crowd of confused but amused shoppers. By the seventh tie someone was eating popcorn and a teenager was live streaming the competition.

Brenda was sweating and her hair had a single strand dramatically stuck to her forehead. Sir Whiskalot would have called her a disgrace to the family name.

Greg’s eyes narrowed. “This is it. The last throw.”

Brenda gritted her teeth. “Bring it! Winner gets the spatula and the loser gets that glitter whisk next to it.”

“One, two, three!”

Brenda threw scissors and Greg threw a banana. Everyone paused.

“I know that you just didn’t throw a banana at me!” Brenda screamed.

“I panicked. I just had it in my hand and it just came out.” Greg said. “I get low blood sugar sometimes.” He continued.

“That’s when things got fuzzy. Brenda remembered the store tilting and the spatula falling from her hand, the banana flying across the aisle into someone’s cart.

And that is the moment Brenda fainted.

When she woke up she was in the break room, lying on a bean bag chair shaped like a giant chicken nugget. Carl was fanning her with his clipboard and Greg was holding an ice pack on her head. Sir Whiskalot, wait, how did he even get here? Was licking the vending machine in the corner.

“What happened?” Brenda asked.

“You fainted.” Greg said. “Well, you fainted after the banana went flying across the aisle.” Greg held out the spatula. Her spatula. It was slightly bent and covered in a mysterious white powder which smelled like garlic. But it was hers.

“You let me win?”

Greg looked offended. “Of course not, I would never let you win. You clearly won fair and square. Everyone knows that rock beats bananas.”

Brenda laughed. The kind of laugh that starts in your belly and is contagious to everyone around you and before you know it everyone is laughing hard. The kind of laugh that takes a lady’s dignity like a raccoon takes trash out of the garbage late at night.

“I think.” She said sitting up. “I may have overreacted. Just a little bit.”

Greg nodded. “You threatened to throw a cauliflower at me.”

“Oh no. I almost forgot that part.” Brenda laughed.

“Well, you did throw it but it missed me and bounced off of your shopping cart and exploded. You know you are very dramatic, Miss Brenda.”

Brenda blinked in horror. “Is everyone okay?”

“Yeah except for those girls' shoes.” He pointed to a teenage girl standing a few feet from Brenda.

“I’m sorry honey. Are you okay? I promise I will buy you some new shoes.” Brenda said, looking at the girl.

“No problem. You don’t have to. I got a million views already on Tic Tok. You’re trending.”

Brenda blinked. “ I am?”

“Yeah, the video is called The Battle for the Spatula in Aisle 7.” The teen girl said.

“Oh no!” Brenda said.

Everyone sat in silence for a minute. Sir Whiskalot began chewing Carl’s shoelaces.

Finally Greg cleared his throat. “Look Brenda I actually liked your lasagna. I only ghosted you because I got nervous. You seemed so confident like the superhero in the kitchen with your magic lasagna.”

Brenda looked at the bent spatula in her hand. “I am a superhero with a spatula.” She laughed.

“Tell you what” he said. “Let me buy you lunch as a truce.”

Brenda raised one eyebrow. “Lunch not dinner?”

“Okay, maybe lunch and dinner. I learned my lesson not to argue with a woman who can defeat produce.” She laughed.

“That’s fair.”

They stood up. Carl presented Brenda with a gift card from the Bargain Mart. “For the customer who provided us with the best retail entertainment for the year.”

Sir Whiskalot stole a pouch of tuna on the way out.

Outside the sun was shining brightly and a girl waved to Brenda in the parking lot and screamed, “Queen of the Bargain Mart.”

Brenda waved back and smiled.

“You know you should name that spatula.” Carl said as they walked to Brenda's car.

“How about Glorious?”

“Bold choice.” Carl said.

“Yeah she’s been through a lot.”

Greg nodded as he walked on the other side of Brenda.

“Do you always name your utensils?”

“Nope. Only the ones that do battle.” Brenda laughed.

Greg grinned and opened Brenda’s car door for her.

“See you tomorrow.” He waved.

“Tomorrow?”

“Yes there’s a chili contest in the park and I will need a teammate.” Greg laughed.

Brenda waved and held up Glorious and waved good-bye.

Brenda turned up the radio in the car and pulled out of the parking space and she whispered to Sir Whiskalot with triumph,

Spatula.