I could not get enough of the new cheesy custard buns at Pappa Rich’s. They changed my life forever.
I was innocently walking home from work and passed by Pappa Rich’s, where the most unsuspicious banner caught my eye.
SALE. CHEESY CUSTARD BUNS. BUY 3 FREE 1.
Being a huge fan of both cheese and sales, I could not say no. Thus, I walked into Pappa Rich’s and was
greeted by knocked off my feet by the scent of freshly baked bread.
My eyes darted frantically right to left and right again in search of my quarry, the cheesy custard buns, and I found them. They sat seductively in a glass shelf beside the cashier, tantalizing my taste buds which were already began to water. But then I noticed her. She was dressed oddly. Faded tee, oversized handbag, shoes that were out of place with the rest of her outfit, complete with a pair of jeans with patchwork squares of other materials sewn onto it. She was fidgety, trying unsuccessfully to remain inconspicuous in a corner of the shop.
Her eyes were those of trapped prey, and she behaved as one as well. This was when my survival instincts kicked in. I immediately knew she was up to no good. I halted my mission and told myself that custard buns can wait. I had to stop this minor menace first.
So, I took up a tray and tongs and began to browse through the bakery slowly. I scanned each tray with an agonizingly slow pace, all the while keeping an eye on the suspect through the corner of my eye. She still has not moved. And I was beginning to come to the conclusion that she was waiting for the bakery to become emptier before she robs it.
I suddenly had a thought. What if she had a gun! I froze in my tracks as I contemplated what I would do in face of the unexpected. I glanced at her once more. That oversized handbag… She definitely had a gun! Suddenly, my knees grew weak and my courage faded as quickly as it came. I had never come face to face with a gun before. And if I do, it may be my last…
As I grew more and more into a nervous wreck due to my paranoid soliloquy, an employee of the bakery walked out of the kitchen. A young beautiful girl, and she was approaching the suspect. Her eyes were on the floor, she looked tired and her body hunched from the fatigue of working all day. She was about to walk into arm’s range of the suspect, and that was when the suspect suddenly moved.
It all happened simultaneously, the bakery’s grandfather clock chimed ten times, and the suspect’s sudden movement, and the employee walked between me and the suspect and blocked the suspect from my line of vision. I reacted immediately, I straightened, and grabbed my tongs and tray as if they were weapons and circled around the bakery shelves that separated me and the suspect to get nearer to her. The suspect was now opposite me and I could finally see her face clearly.
She had brown, worn eyes that hinted traces of a lifetime of hardship, and her many wrinkles on her face folded over each other as if trying to knit a pattern. I realized how old she could have been probably past her forties. She was now inspecting a tray of bread and I was contemplating my next move. Shall I talk to her? Be cool like one of those agents you see on Hollywood films and say, “I know what you’re up to.” Would she freeze once she realized she was discovered? Or would she react back? And if she did, would she react violently? But before I could do anything, the employee spoke to her first.
She said, “Hi there aunty! Same time everyday, huh?” A regular? She must have been scouting out this place for a long time! I thought. Then the aunty replied, “Yes, dear! I could not possibly afford anything here unless they were half price. I’ve been waiting for you to put up the sign since just now!” I then realized something crucial and how very wrong I had been. I bought my cheesy custard buns for half price then promptly left the store. The cashier did not understand why my face was flushed red.