When Chas got the advert in his post office box, he almost threw it away. He wasn't the kind of guy who really needed supplies at a big-box store. What was one guy going to do with bulk Cheerios? His hand stopped automatically when his brain saw the sale price on the car battery.
Well, is a free pass... and it costs nothing to look…
John tagged along, swaggering up and down the aisle, making sure to stop at each kiosk and flirt with the old ladies (even the old gentlemen) handing out free samples of food and drink – and getting more than his fair share. Chas chuckled, and pushed the strangely proportioned wagon away from John's antics
What kind of supplies do you buy in the face of the Rising Darkness? Chas thought. Nothing that couldn't be store in the trunk of the cab without refrigeration, nothing that required more prep than opening the container… in other words, nothing worth eating.
He dismissed trail mix. Why is half the bag always raisins? I understand the need to stay regular, but come on. Running from demons and having to take a dump is a good way to get permanently dead. Toilet paper! Now that's a necessity for eternity, he thought, as he turned the corner and saw a mountain of white rolls on display. He tossed a jumbo pack into the cart.
As he threw a supersized package of mixed-flavored beef jerky in the cart, a blue and white box on the other side of the aisle caught his eye. The rumors that the snack cake could last through a nuclear strike had been only an urban legend, but he had fond memories of the sugary concoction from his school days. Queenie hadn't been much of a mother – for twelve years, her idea of lunch had been PB&J on Wonder bread – but she'd always packed him a Twinkie. For the sake of his long-dead mother and for that sweet tooth John always chided him about, he pitched a single box into the cart.
"Do you know they have a liquor store here?" Constantine grinned as he came around the corner, holding up a brown paper bag, its top scrunched around the neck of the bottle.
"I'm not surprised. Did you get me anything?"
"Nah, they sell beer over in the middle section in the store proper. I figured you'd get yourself something before we left. But this…" Constantine said, revealing the black and gold label. "This will do nicely."
"I've got a good recipe for Irish stew that uses Bushmills," Chas remarked as he pushed the cart toward the beer section.
"Bloody hell, Chas, this is meant for drinking, but that sounds pretty good right now. What kind of meat would need?"
"Lamb, preferably, or beef."
"I'll go check and see what they've got while you piss your money away with Twinkies and cheap American beers," Constantine said, turning away to the meat counter.
"Get enough for three; I have a feeling Zed is likely to show up tonight," Chas called without looking over his shoulder.
"Yeah, yeah, yeah, bad pennies have a way of doing just that, don't they."