You could have a big dipper   

Everything but the Bagel by Danny Scheyer


I needed pesto. A Twitter account can tell you how many people are in line at the Trader Joe's on Court and Atlantic. Twitter lies.


I walked past Trader Joe's oversized brass doors and sandstone walls and arched windows. Past the Barney's that folded a year ago and the framing store and the Yemeni cafe and the smoke shop. The end was in sight when a ten-foot-tall wave of muddy brown water barreled down Atlantic Avenue and scooped me up like a 19¢ banana. (Bananas will cost 19¢ at Trader Joe's until the singularity.)


The waters deposited me, sideways, at the Trader Joe’s Line Czar, Cerberus of the luau. Their mind was on a different mass undulation.


"Move up, people! Let's go. Who’s next?" Half-question, half-threat.


An old woman -- I shouldn't call her old, she was in her 40s -- lay in the gutter. I signaled in her direction. The czar yelled until the woman stood and staggered in to buy Mandarin Orange Chicken Philly Cheesesteak Bao Buns.


"Line's back there, chief."


At least it moves quickly. Clouds.


Danny Scheyer (He/Him) is a bag of bags under the kitchen sink. His Twitter is @Jokesforone


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