Getting to Know My Safeway Cashier

I do most of my food shopping at Safeway on the corner. It's fast and the people know me. I'm kidding. They want "each and every one" of their customers to feel like it's our store, so they say "Thank you, Mr. Fo-, uh, um, re-tich? Did I say your name right?" after they process my customer card. I figured they were interested in me personally, so the following happened last weekend.

Hey, Ms. Cashier Shift two, I feel right cozy with you now. You know who I am. And, now I know who you are, my dear Shivtu. We are both Russian, Yes? Foretich and Shivtu. Yes, I know I am right. Wink, Wink. Come closer. Ah, then I will.

I like how you are coming on to me right now. Wanting to say my name in that alluring manner. Not caring about the others or my chicken. (He is my pet and the leash is strong. Don't mind him.) The way your eyebrows shoot up at just the mere mention of my last name. Are you envisioning a night with me by the big bonfire at the river bottom? Hmm? I can see it in your eyes.

The way you pronounced my name in a hesitating manner makes me feel comfortable and shiny inside. No, wait. That's the floor wax I drank on aisle six. It's your store brand. It's smooth. If you want to smell like Spring Time, then kiss me, you babbling brook of mountain trout! The river bottom and your small beady eyes beckon me. More kisses, my gypsy woman!

Oooo, I hope you are not like the others and only want me for my chicken! Be still my heart. Only time and a basket of morning eggs will tell my future. Until next week's sale, I bid you adieu.

Handcuffs are not necessary, I assure you, officer. She is my Gypsy Woman from check out lane number three.

Don't step on my chicken. Yes, he needs the leash.