The Waffle Man

Just when I thought that my weekend was going to be blissfully uneventful, a man stuffed something down his pants at Super Walmart.

I came upon the man when I rounded the corner of the frozen food aisle. Even though the store was crawling with people, he was startled to see me. This was most likely because he was in the process of depositing a box of frozen waffles down the front of his sweatpants.

"Uh," I stuttered in the moment that our eyes locked. Having lost my words, all I could do was point to his crotch.

The man, who also had a black fanny pack slung over one shoulder, scurried away. His gait was about as normal as could be expected for someone who was balancing the equivalent of a shoebox on top of his genitals.

I grabbed the first store employee I could find, who happened to be a produce clerk.

"There's a man with waffles in his pants running around your store!" I shrieked.

The produce clerk looked disinterested at best.

It wasn't until after my son verified my story that the man called for reinforcements.

Out of nowhere, a group of plain-clothed men who had biceps the size of tanks converged upon us. "Where is he?" they growled.

I gestured to the baking aisle.

Thirty seconds later, the group returned with a man who had a mass in the shape of large rectangle bulging from his pants.

Upon closer examination, it became strikingly evident that the man was not playing with a full deck.

I felt bad for the guy, but not bad enough to give into my son's request to put a couple of boxes of Eggos into my shopping cart.

I'm steering clear of frozen breakfast foods for awhile.