Sack To The Future

We all go through that awful moment when you run into someone you used to go to High School with. It happens maybe once a month. They spot you, eye contact is made, you both stop and then it begins. Minutes and minutes excruciating catch ups and questions. Once a month is OK. I'd take once a month, no problem. Twelve times a year. But I work in a Supermarket.

How many times do you visit a supermarket? Once a week maybe? So If I'd known you during our younger years, there is at least one possible meeting a week. That's a grand total of 48 meetings a year. I don't think I see my own cousin 48 times a year.

So there I was, stood in front of Danny 'Stocky' Stockton. Eye contact was made. We stopped and acknowledged. The Big Three. I was trapped.

'Shitting hell, it's you!'

I remembered, Danny used swear words in place of normal words. As if he was taught the 'shits' and 'fucks' with the 'dogs' and 'cats'. He said them so naturally that you aren't offended. Even during High School. I can't speak for our teachers, though.


'Dylan Smart. Little Dylan. Smarty Farty.'


I'd like to point out that none of these names where my nickname in high school. I'm guessing he said them behind my back, or written them on the back of a bus seat or something.


'So what the fuck are you doing now, you big gay!?' He asked, complete with a nipple twist.


I took a split second to picture what he was seeing. Me, Smarty Farty, in my high visibility vest and name badge, outside a supermarket. I gave him another second for him to put together these clues, but it didn't look like he was. He was too engrossed in an cheese and onion pastie. I could have lied of course, like everyone else does in this situation. I could have said I work for myself, doing something cool like web design. Spending my days eating those expensive biscuits and making pie charts. But I sensed it would have been hard to pull off, stood there holding a litter-pick and a bag full of wet fag ends.


Danny hated me at High School. He hated a lot of lads so I wasn't special. I just kept my head down, got on with it. He wasn't a usual, run-of-the-mill bully, though. He didn't throw chairs or smoke spliffs in class. Not so much violent, but an embarrasser. The worst was in Sex Education class. We all have to go through it and we all know it's a horrible thing. There were giggles, as you'd expect, when the teacher passed round plastic models of male and female reproductive organs. But the room exploded into fits of laughter when my old mate Danny Stockton, Stocky, Stockers, The Big Stock, slapped me across the face with a plastic scrotum. It took half an hour for everyone, including the teacher, to stop laughing.

A lot of students are remembered for being the brainiest, the funny one, or the kid who smelt of piss. I was remembered as Sack Boy.


'So, you work here then? Wow...' Danny said, looking up at the building.
'Yeah, only temporary, like. Just finished Uni. Got a degree in...'
'Do you think you could get us stuff on the cheap?' He interrupted.
'On the che...what kind of stuff?'
'You know, a few DVD's and that. Twixy works at Blockbusters in town. He just says to the new lads on the tills they're for a staff party. Gets them cheap. Sometimes he gives them fake notes he makes himself.'

I don't know who Twixy is, but he sounds like a lovely fellow.


'Na, I don't think so, mate.'


Mate? What was I thinking? He's my mate now? Stocky and Sack Boy are mates?


'Go on. Here's a tenner.' He moved closer, shoving the note into my hand. 'Get three DVD's off the shelf and go to a checkout girl. Make sure she's a new one. I'll be round the corner.'


Then he was off. Boy, he was good. I hadn't seen him for for eight years and two minutes into our reunion I'm his DVD dealer. The fact that he hadn't specified which DVD's didn't seem to matter. I guess it was my choice.

Now, if you're sat there thinking 'why the hell are you doing this?' I should tell you, I had a plan. During our little chat earlier, all I could think about was that fateful day in Sex Education class. Danny's probably forgotten that day now. He probably forgot as soon as he left the classroom. But I hadn't. And a chance to embarrass him the way he did is not to be sniffed at. So, I thought, what's better than getting his embarrassed? Yes, that's right. Getting him arrested.


After alerting members of security staff of his presence I wandered slowly back outside to where Danny was hiding. Now smoking a roll up, he jumped up from the grassy patch at the side of the Supermarket.


'Well, where are they?'

'Even better!' I said, my B in GCSE Drama coming back to me. 'I spoke to Gemma off checkouts and her brother do this scam all the time! Just get as many DVD's as you want and take it to her check out. Say the word 'Elephant' and she'll pretend to bleep it through. You just walk out with them!'


Danny's eyes lit up in front of me. He couldn't believe is luck. But he did have questions. I was ready for them all.


'Why Elephant?'
'It's code.'
'Ah, as many DVD's as I want?'
'As many as you want'. I smiled.
'Brilliant! Which one's Gemma?'
'Dumpy looking girl, glasses. Looks like a pub landlord.'


Then he was off. I just had to stand close to the checkout and watch. I was going to dine out on this.


Danny dropped about eight DVD's onto the moving checkout belt, then fingered the plastic covers, eyeing up his prey. Gemma looked up and gave that generic Supermarket smile, then bleeped the DVD's through. Danny looked up at me. I kept cool. Gemma kept bleeping. Then Danny mouthed at me 'I thought she wasn't going to bleep them!!' in not as many words.


'Elephant.' Danny said, pronouncing every letter with has much gusto as he could muster.
'Eh?'

He looked up at me a again, I waved him on calmly.


'Ele-phant.' He winked at her.
'Are you calling me an elephant! You cheeky...'


Before Gemma got to finish her abuse, Danny scooped up the DVD's and made a run for it, dropping a few along the way, as if he were running out of MGM Grand with a fist full of hundred dollar bills. He dodged past two old ladies on zimmer frames, jumped over a small child and reached the doors. Only to be stopped by two security guards. He spent the next hour in the back room, waiting for the police. They knew him, of course. He was wanted by a few more supermarkets in the area, and a Blockbusters.


That month I was given an 'Above and Beyond the Call of Duty' Award for Outstanding Achievement. Alerting security staff of a possible thief earned me a paid day off. I felt like a super hero. Sack Boy To The Rescue!