Wednesday

I slammed my foot hard on the gas and did a stick-shifting Vin Diesel would be proud of as I roared into the supermarket car park.

The Good Lady had called me as I was on the train coming home from work.

Hey, Daddy-Bear, do you know what day it is?

She had asked with a merry twinge in her voice.

I made a mental Geuuurk noise as I racked my brain for special anniversaries that I had forgotten. Like the first kiss/holiday/dance/banana, etc.

Try as I might, I could come up with nothing. Hmm, had she been eating the mad-cow pie again?

Hey my little potato fritter, It's only Wednesday, why do you ask?

I said with not a hint of embarrassment on the crowded train.

It's not just Wednesday. Daddy-Bear. It's WINE Wednesday.

She laughed before her tone turned deadly serious.

And we don't have any.

She stated with a disbelief that could literally glue a box shut.

The phone almost fell out of my suddenly numb hand. We had no wine? What the hell kind of world was this that such a thing should be allowed to happen?

What could I do? Should I will my testicles into a Gordian knot in the hope that someone would cut them free and they could escape and fetch me a bottle?

No. This demanded a simpler solution. I would go to the shop myself.

Don't worry, babycakes. I've got this.

And so began my odyssey.

As I pulled into the Supermarket, the car meatily thrumming under my feet, I gazed about me in horror.

All of the parking spaces were full? The car park was absolutely heaving with people who all seemed to be having the brazen cheek to be stopping off for a bit of shopping after work.

This would not do, Wine Wednesday must be obeyed.

Then I spied it.

A car parking space.

It was a parent/child parking space. Should I use it? I mean, I had kids, just not with me, hmm.

Fuck it.

With a victorious cry of Freedom! I pulled in and leapt out of the car. Time to get wine'y!

Hey, you don't have any kids?

A voice yelled belligerently at me.

I stopped dead in my tracks and looked at my accuser. It was an old one. In his fifties at least. He looked awfully indignant.

Like a super-cooled quantum computer my mind ran through the options. Should I fall on my sword, apologise and explain that it was Wine Wednesday and all sins should be forgiven? Yes, that would be for the best.

I opened my mouth.

How bloody dare you?!?!

I bellowed.

Look at the bloody child seats in the back! Do you think I am parking here for a laugh? What the hell are you... RACIST!?!

The old feller looked shocked and took a step back.

What? Racist? How am I being racist?!

He sputtered.

Sounds like it to me, now get out of here before I call the cops.

I stormed past him and into the shop for wine.

I had no idea what had just happened but I couldn't help but smile.

The Gods of Wine Wednesday were smiling upon me this day.