The Popularity Game

{ t w e l v e } Operation: Walmarters

dedicated to rafiella for having literally the most flattering comment ever

_

I never noticed how big a grocery store could actually be.

I mean sure, Walmart was huge with all the food and the clothes and other varieties of who knows what that they sell ("Who the hell still buys leg warmers?").

But grocery shopping with Jason Matthews made the warehouse seem like endless rows of shelves and confectionary items.

And the thing that ticked me off the most was that he questioned every item that we passed by.

Every. Single. One.

Don't even get me started on the things he said when we went through the tampons section.

"Can you please just shut up?" I groan as I push my body weight on the cart, moving it forward as I drag my feet behind me. Jason trailed after me, after examining a bottle of string cheese.

"Why would anyone want their cheese to be in string form when it's way better when it's whole."

I rolled my eyes as I pushed the cart into the meat section. We were picking up the second to the last ingredient in our list, which was what Jason claimed needed to be absolutely perfect in order to work.

I eye the packs of meat neatly lined up on the refrigerated shelf, all different varieties of chopped up animal gut and intestines and—Alright Erin, you need to stop thinking about intestines right now.

I shudder internally as I continue pushing the cart lazily.

"Do you think the explosives would still work if we used ordinary pork instead of the—" I hold up the list and look down various vegetables and gadgets that we'd already picked up, stopping to squint at the incredulously tiny word written below. "—Yugoslav pork?"

He looks at me with an are-you-seriously-asking-me-that expression, gasping just for extra measure.

Drama queen.

"Sanders, if we're going to end this right, we're going to have to go out with a bang." He smiles wickedly. "Literally."

I roll my eyes at the pun. Which really isn't that clever at all, but hey, he seemed to be pretty proud of himself for thinking up that one.

"Yugoslav then?"

"Yugoslav."

I sigh as I make my way to the clerk, watching her eyes widen in curiosity as I tell her my request.

"I-I'm not sure we have that here."

I look at Jason disappointedly, but just when I'm about to thank her, Jason pipes up beside me. "I'm sure you could check the stocks at the back," He smiles at her, dimples and everything, "For me?"

Oh god.

I almost roll my eyes at his pathetic attempt to get us foreign meat, but suddenly stop when the blonde blushes, giving him a small smile. She tucks a strand of stray hair behind her hear, mumbling an uncertain 'sure' before she walks off.

"Show off." I mutter as I cross my arms, watching the grocery attendant look back and wink at him.

He chuckles, "I know you're jealous, Sanders. Stop trying to hide it."

I furrow my brows in frustration. This guy could just not be more of a douche than he already was.

"In your dreams, Matthews." I say smugly as I try to distract myself with cartons of assorted milk on the next shelf. I couldn't look at him right now, not when I knew what he was going to say next.