If I Wake Up on Saturday . . .

I guess it was because I am taking a few days of vacation. But I had totally forgotten about this whole Mayan calendar, end-of-the-world event.

As I backed out of my driveway to head to the office for a while (it’s my vacation and I can spend it wherever I like), the local radio announcers were joking around about tomorrow being the grand finale. For some reason, I didn’t find that amusing. In fact, the very thought made me change directions.

Literally, I turned my car around and headed to the local supermarket.

You see, it is my understanding that, on occasion, the deli there prepares jalapeno sausage kolaches. I have always wanted to try their jalapeno sausage kolaches. And if the end is near, I was going to do something about it.

As I wheeled into the parking lot, I steeled myself for disappointment. What if this was a hoax? What if such delicacies weren’t going to be on display — waiting for my arrival?

I normally address my angst over anticipatory failure by calmly checking my facts. My hands shook as I fired up my iPhone and scoured snopes.com for clues. Nothing.

I turned my attention toward the front of the store. Nothing unusual to see. At least, as far as I knew. I don’t really spend a lot of time staking out the early morning comings and goings of my neighbors at the local United.

Seeing no alternative, I stepped into the brisk December air and hurried inside. Shortly past the registers, I turned to the left. Even from that great distance, I could see the deli display and a large pan of foil-covered objects.

“No, no!” I thought. “Those are too big to be kolaches. Why, oh why, haven’t they prepared the one food item I crave before the end of the world!?”

Even though I had accepted defeat, something in me — perhaps the drive of the indomitable human spirit — made me continue toward the counter.

Closer, closer I crept. I realized that my breath had caught in my throat. Oxygen-deprived, eyes bugging out just a bit, I rested my palms on the edge of the display and released a slow sigh as I viewed the mountain of egg and bacon burritos on the tray before me.

“Can I help you?”

The voice startled me back to reality. The deli associate moved closer to me.

“No, I’m just looking,” I answered.

“Are you okay?” he asked. As I stood silent, he continued, “You look a little pale and I thought I heard a little moan.”

Pulling myself together, I asserted, “THAT was a sigh . . . and I’m fine. I was just hoping that you had some jalapeno sausage kolaches today.”

“Other side of the display,” he rejoindered. “We made about 50 today, what with the big, end of the Mayan calendar happening tomorrow.”

sausage kolaches“Oh, thanks!” I said as I stepped around and picked up my prize.

“Come back to see us!” the deli guy said. “By the way, we always make jalapeno sausage kolaches on Saturday.”

I suppose he intended to offer me some hope. But, it was useless. You see, now I’ve checked jalapeno sausage kolaches from my corner store off my list. The sense of quest is gone.

Should I awake on Saturday, I will eat my cheerios and dream new dreams.

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