Home Office

“Yo, Mr. --------, nice apron! And hat! Is that a new hat?”

The Old Hand removed his hat, ran his finger across the embossed Kroger and carefully placed it back on his head, smoothing the bill in a practiced gesture.

“Yep,” the Old Hand replied, “the Home Office in Wilmington sent me this today. Spiffy, huh?”

The Old Hand performed a slow turn showing off his teal and maroon apron, festooned with “flair” buttons and his new salt ‘n’ pepper “golf” shirt.

Carlos let out with a low whistle of approval. “Yeah, man, that’s way cool. From Ohio you say? That’s weird.”

“What’s weird?” the Old Hand replied.

“Well, I got this in the mail today,” Carlos explained, and he turned to show the Old Hand his new, black apron (festooned with flair), white shirt and tan hat.

“Cool,” intoned the Old Hand.

“Wait, there’s more,” Carlos continued, and he reached his hand into his pocket and produced a handful of Kroger key rings. Primo booty by any standard.

“Check this out!” and Carlos offered the Kroger key rings for inspection.

The Old Hand examined the key rings impassively, reached into his pocket and pulled out a handful of his own Kroger key rings.

“Where’d you get this stuff,” they both asked simultaneously.

“The home office in Ohio,” they both answered simultaneously.

“How weird is that?” one of them said.

Carlos frowned. “Hey,” he said, “you haven’t seen the Sackmeister lately, have you?”

“Naw,” replied the Old Hand, “not since you gave him that shellacking the other day. He’s been pretty low key.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” Carlos mused, “the Sackmeister will be back, that’s for sure but right now we need to be thankful for Christmas Present. And Christmas presents.” Carlos chuckled at his own bon mot.

The Old Hand nodded. “Yes, and I for one would like to thank the Kroger Home Office in Wilmington, Ohio for these fine gifts. How about you, Carlos?”

Carlos looked up and beamed, “Right on, Mr. -------, those guys are the best. I mean, what a thoughtful gesture.”

Carlos turned away and wiped his eye, “Allergies,” he said.

“Yeah, I know,” the Old Hand said and placed his hand on Carlos’ shoulder.

Meanwhile, far, far away…

The Sackmeister typed in “moron-seeking rockets” and pressed RETURN. Twelve hits. Moron seeking this. Moron seeking that. No moron seeking rockets.

Dang.

The Sackmeister clicked on eBay and entered a search: Kroger aprons Ohio.

200 hits.

Ah, so.