The Great Toilet Paper Avalanche of Aisle Six
Marcus Webb
4 min read · Sep 13
Four items left on the list. Zero dignity left in the aisle.
She wanted to be carried. I said we were nearly done. What happened next is now, I am told, store folklore.
We were four items from freedom. Milk, eggs, bread, bananas. She wanted to be carried. I explained, reasonably, that we were nearly done, which is the sentence that has started every disaster in human history.
She went down like a demolished chimney. On the way, one flailing foot connected with the bottom of a toilet paper display, which turned out to be less of a display and more of a suggestion.
It fell slowly, the way genuinely funny things do. She stopped crying to watch. An older man at the end of the aisle applauded once, quietly, and I have thought about him with enormous affection ever since.
A staff member appeared and said the only correct thing, which was: "Happens twice a week, don't worry about it." We rebuilt the tower together while my daughter handed us packets like a small foreman.
She was delighted. It was the best part of her week. I bought the bananas. Everyone lived.
The thing nobody tells you is that the mortifying ones become the funny ones within about four days, and the funny ones last forever. This one's a keeper.
