The Dented Can

My friend Phoebe and I used to go to the flea market of banged-up and expired food, a nameless store that was in town briefly. It was a hit! This is not a high-end town, we love our bargains. It sounds creepy, but for us scavengers we couldn't resist. I ran into friends there buying bags of broken pecan cookies, because, as you know, there are no calories when they are broken! We affectionately dubbed the place "The Dented Can," and imagined an eight-foot tall dented can of peas rotating slowly out front - botulism world headquarters. That's not funny. Since the spinach E Coli crisis I keep imagining a mother screaming at her kid "Eat your spinach, it's not gonna kill you," and then the kid dies from E Coli. Maybe it's my perverse humor. I hope nobody who died from bad spinach had that said to them the night before.

I had a few too many creepy experiences buying stuff at the dented can - dead bugs in my pasta, (at least they were dead) and really stale tea. Stupidly I bought mayonnaise there once. But there were some great bargains, too, on soap, sponges, paper napkins, jars of juice and other safe-to-buy things. They even sold powdered goats milk. The store is gone now. And I hope my grandparents are not reading this from heaven, because they would worry about me.