even if it is on sale, there is 1 thing you should never buy a dozen of:
bleach.
especially in the 121 oz size(!).
Quiet-Keeps-To-Himself Man u-scanned his 6th container of bleach when I realized what was going on next to me.
involuntarily, my eyes widened as my brain whispered, "what is he going to do with all that bleach?" the Blacklist's S1 E4: The Stewmaker (title says it all, eww!) leaps to my freaked-out mind.
QKTHM senses my angst, he attempts an innocent smile (not fooling anyone, weirdo) and speeds up his scanning.
my Meijer-Crazy Spidey-Sense is thrown into high gear. I can't be the only one that thinks this is strange, right?
attempting not to spook QKTHM that I'm on to him, I covertly side-glance to the dark security bubble cameras hanging from the ceiling.
ever so slyly, I tilt my head towards QKTHM and roll my eyes his way. obviously, the internationally accepted gesture for: "Are you seeing this guy?!"
I feigned focus on scanning my charcoal and hamburger patties while I waited for Meijer's Security Team to storm out from the Employees Only door.
and waited, and waited... zilch.
I glance back at QKTHM, bottle #12 successfully scanned. he glances at me, a shaky smile as he scans the last item-- a box of garbage bags.
correction... a box of HUSKY 42-GALLON CONTRACTOR HEAVY DUTY GARBAGE BAGS! (sorry for the all-caps, bold, and italic, but it feels appropriate to that moment)
my brain searches through all the mystery novels, movies and TV shows--desperate for the logistics and legality on how to citizen's arrest a possible lunatic, when I hear--
"whoa! that's a lot of bleach!"
the on-duty Steward of the U-Scan Podium walks over to QKTHM, who quick glances at me, then says to Steward, "Yeah, I've been cleaning out neglected swimming pools all summer; got a real bad one today."
within a nanosecond, I'm pretending like I never noticed nuthin'. eyes now glued to my own u-scan, I pay, load the cart, and get the heck outta there.
ashamed, with my head down, I'm determined not to notice/observe another thing for the rest of my life--cursing my overactive imagination--I fast-walk across the parking lot to my car.
I shut my trunk and see Law-Abiding-Pool-Guy (formerly QKTHM), loading all that innocent bleach, and friend of the pool industry Husky bags into the backseat of his car.
Our eyes briefly meet as I pull away, I'm about to offer a conciliatory smile, when this thought hits me...
why doesn't he use his trunk?
followed up with...
he's not tan.
I'm processing this when QKTHM (formerly LAPG) waves, drives away in an old nondescript US make/model car that I can't place.
pretty sure I heard my overactive imagination scream, "NOOOOOOOO!"
