Unexpected Item In The Bagging Area

John grimaced. Every queue in Morrisons was trailing into the aisles. He’d only nipped in for a bag of prawn crackers, but he’d been seduced by the buy-one-get-one-frees, the two-for-£3s, the multipacks and the meal deals.

He’d been in there so long he wasn’t sure what day it was. He wasn’t sure who the prime minister was. He wasn’t sure who he was. Was his name even John?

His basket weighed him down like an albatross. Peeling himself from the kitchen roll section, he trundled exhaustedly towards the self-checkout machine.

We meet again, he thought, as he eyed the cold, calculating hunk of metal. I’m here to get my job done, you’re here to do yours. No reason for either of us to make things difficult. 

“Unexpected item in the bagging area.”

John reeled in shock. There certainly was not anything unexpected in the bagging area.

“Unexpected item in the bagging area.”

People were beginning to stare. A security guard unstrapped his walkie-talkie.

There is no fucking unexpected item in the bagging area…” John hissed frantically, tearing open the carrier bag.

Suddenly, he stopped. Nestled between his easy-peel tangerines and can of coconut milk was a baby. A mini-human. Un bébé.

It was pretty unexpected, John agreed begrudgingly.

*

From thereon, the Morrisons was declared a place of miracles by the Vatican. People flocked from all over the world to find their own unexpected item in the bagging area.

And they were not disappointed; the self-checkout machine threw out all kinds of shit. A koala bear. A velvet cape. A fried egg that looked a bit like Ed Sheeran.

All very unexpected.

THE END