Zombie Pudding and the Pope’s Arrival in Philly

Photo of Shop Rite in Philadelphia

My Neighborhood Supermarket

Needed some fodder for this week’s journal entry and decided to do the dreaded food-shopping. Unfortunately, nothing really got my goat.

An individual serving from a package of low-cal, double-chocolate, Jello pudding fell on the floor as I removed the 4-pack off the shelf, however, landing in front of the refrigerated display case, leaving a little brown splotch on the floor.

The foil lid on the fallen container appeared to be sealed still, so I put the small cup in the carton and back on the rack.

If Bill Cosby was a spokesperson for the company anymore and he saw me do it, do you think I’d get a lecture for picking up another package of “Jello Puddin’ Paks” instead, and leaving the other behind in its place?

Could that have been considered a sin by the deeply religious? Now I’m feeling a bit guilty about it.

What would happen if somehow, a flesh-eating bacterium was introduced inside that Puddin’ Pak from the supermarket’s floor as a result and propagated?

Some poor, unsuspecting shopper could turn into a zombie from eating the infected product in that particular contaminated container, should they buy the carton I put back onto the display rack.

The destructive microbes inside could eat away the skin from within his or her mouth, wreaking havoc throughout the person’s facial and digestive tissues as well, infecting everyone in the nearby path of the noxious, airborne organisms spewed forth from this wretched being.

What a mess that would be, and I would certainly feel mighty lowdown if I read about it on Twitter or Yahoo news. Something like that could go viral!

I wonder if the Pope would hear my confession, when he comes to Philadelphia at the end of this week? Would I give him an earful!

“Bless me Holy Father, for I have sinned. It’s been close to a half-century since my last confession.”

He’d like that, I bet. He wants to get his people back.

Philly is going to be a wreck while the Pontiff is here. A virtual fence is going up around the city to keep motorized traffic out. No trains or buses will be allowed in either past the several-mile long-and-wide, no-go zone around where the Pope will be doing his thing.

I’d like to see Pope Francis, but the security boundaries will make it almost impossible for me to go downtown from where I live, unless I camp out somewhere close-by.

My feet would never hold out for the ten-mile (16km) or so pilgrimage to Center City from my flat, and another ten back. Probably the closest I could get with the car would be a few miles from the scene.

Maybe there’s a slight chance in a million I’ll catch a glimpse of him. We’ll see.

By the way, the first day of fall is this coming Wednesday, so happy end of summer to you; and thanks for stopping by.

About Mike Slickster

As an early retiree with an honorary doctorate degree from the proverbial "School of Hard Knocks," this upcoming author with a lot of free time on his hands utilizes his expansive repertoire for humorous yet tragic, wildly creative writing that contains years of imaginative fantasy, pure nonsense, classic slapstick, extreme happiness and searing heartbreak; gathered by a wealth of personal experiences throughout his thrilling—sometimes mundane or unusually horrid—free-spirited, rock-'n'-roller-coaster ride around our beloved Planet Earth. Mike Slickster's illustrious quest continues, living now in Act Three of his present incarnation, quite a bit on the cutting edge of profundity and philosophical merriment as seen through his colorful characters, most notably evident in the amusing Thirty Days Across the Big Pond series, all of which can be found at Lulu.com.
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6 Responses to Zombie Pudding and the Pope’s Arrival in Philly

  1. Shirley Ann says:

    If you think you’ve got plenty to confess think about what David Cameron’s got to tell his holiness when he has an audience with him – bet it’s a pile of porkies #Piggate

  2. Shirley Ann says:

    The whole affair is enough to turn one vegetarian. Then again God knows what some of these sick politicians could make of the simple carrot . Winston Churchill would turn in his grave (y) and as for Maggie Thatcher she had to work with a whole load of old pigs in her time. My sympathy goes to Kermit the frog – he’s the injured party ….

  3. Strange how all of this was brought up just recently and not during Cameron’s original campaign for PM. The so-called whistle-blower surely knew about it then.

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