SPECIAL BARGAIN, WINTER SALE — KAVAN P. STAFFORD

Sarah hesitated as she reached for the freezer. What did she want from it? She couldn’t remember. She pulled it open anyway and the lid lifted to release a cloud of steam into the air of the supermarket. She looked at the goods inside. Frozen heads encased in plastic wrapping – ONLY £3.50/KG: GET SORTED FOR CHRISTMAS – and little bags of baby fingers – WINTER SALE ONLY £2.49  – but she didn’t want either of them.

   She touched one of the heads through the plastic anyway, liking the feeling of the cold surface on her skin. The man it had been had had a short beard. His mouth was still open in its final scream. He was missing a tooth on the left lower side.

   She closed the freezer and continued to walk down the aisle, pushing her trolley in front of her. There was nothing in the trolley. She couldn’t find anything she wanted to buy even though the voice-over that occasionally cut through the music that was playing quietly in the background told her that there were INCREDIBLE DEALS in-store today. There really were incredible deals. The prices were fantastic. She couldn’t deny it. But still, she didn’t know what she wanted.

   She turned into the bakery aisle and examined the breads. The one nearest to her had toenails across the top like sesame seeds.

   Sarah blinked.

   What were sesame seeds? She didn’t know.

   She touched the bread gently and a couple of the toenails dislodged and fell inside the packet. The bread was only 50p. That was a good price for so big a loaf. She picked it up, opened the paper bag and inhaled the mixed smell of feet and bread. She smiled. Lovely. She placed it in her trolley gently, setting it to the side in case she was to accidentally put anything heavy on top of it.

   She rounded another corner and saw an end-of-aisle deal for bottles of fizzy phlegm. BARGAIN BARGAIN BARGAIN, the shelf screamed, ONLY £3.25 FOR SIX BOTTLES WITH YOUR LOYALTY CARD!

   Sarah pursed her lips. She had her loyalty card with her of course but she had been trying to cut down on fizzy drinks. But if she didn’t take it someone else would and then maybe when she came back next week –

   She frowned. What was she thinking of? There was nobody else in the supermarket. There was never anyone else in the supermarket. How could there be? It was her supermarket. There was only the staff and her. Who else could there be?

   And what did she mean by coming back next week? She wasn’t going to leave. She wasn’t going to leave her supermarket.

   Still, she picked up the bottles of phlegm and placed them in her trolley next to the bread. Better safe than sorry.

   She went to the butcher’s counter next. The butcher was there as always, grinning his toothless grin. His white coat, once neat, was grubby and streaked with blood and his heavy hands, resting on the glass counter, were filthy, his nails black.

   Behind him two women and a little boy of about six were hanging from the meat hooks attached to the ceiling. One of the women was dead, not fresh then, but the other and the boy were alive. The boy was moaning in agony, his eyes rolling around in his sockets as his spasming hands grasped at his naked body, perhaps searching for a way to escape. He was the cleaner of the two and Sarah found that younger flesh tasted better so she pointed at him and smiled. The butcher nodded and picked up his knife.

   The boys screams were loud, especially when his penis was sliced off, but whoever was in charge of the music turned it up and Sarah nodded her head to Lewis Capaldi’s singing. The butcher grinned at her as he took the two legs, the penis and the left arm to the table and began to prepare them. His front was newly splattered with blood and there was a little spot of it at the corner of his mouth. As he worked, cutting away the fatty flesh to reveal the beautiful muscle within, his tongue darted out and licked the blood away.

   ‘We have a good price on these,’ the Butcher said. His knife was still deftly slicing through flesh. As he spoke, he split the boy’s penis up the middle and opened it up. It fried better that way, ‘Absolute bargain. I can give you the lot for twenty. No, actually since I don’t get such a pretty customer every day, I’ll say fifteen. How does that sound?’

   He was putting the paper-wrapped meat into plastic back and tying them shut with neat swoops and twists of his fingers. Behind him, the boy was still alive though surely not for much longer. Blood was pouring from the stumps left behind and his remaining hand was twitching. His tongue was lolling out of his mouth.

   Sarah giggled at the compliment and took the bags, ‘Thank you,’ she said.

   He winked at her and turned back to the boy, bringing his knife up. There were no screams this time.

   Sarah looked at her trolley and smiled. That was enough for today. She made her way slowly to the front of the shop, ignoring the signs which promised DEALS DEALS DEALS or 50% SALE. When she reached the cash register she unloaded the trolley and the girl, a fat creature who was missing her nose and whose tongue lolled from her mouth, drooling continually down her dirty uniform top, scanned them all through.

   ‘Loyalty card?’ the girl said in her slurping, lisping voice once the goods were bagged up. She was not as friendly as the Butcher.

   Sarah fished in her bag and brought out the card. She had attached a keychain to it to make it easier to find. An eyeball dangled from the other end of the chain and gazed at her. The girl scanned the loyalty card and gave it back to her. She said the price and it was even cheaper than Sarah had expected.

   She smiled as she handed over the cash, ‘That’s a bargain,’ she said.

   The girl looked at her in the eyes and Sarah saw, with a strange moment of disquiet, that those eyes were not bored as she had expected. They were afraid.

   ‘We’re doing rollback offers. Rolling back prices ten years,’ the girl said. She shifted her arm, rattling the rusty chain which attached her to the counter, 'At least 25% off everything.’

   Sarah smiled again and placed her bag in her trolley. She began to walk to the door. As she reached it, however, she saw a display of cans of candied tongues in one of the nearby aisles. ONLY 30p A CAN, said the sign, WHAT A SALE!

   Sarah left her trolley and wandered over. She picked up the cans and stared at them. But these weren’t what she wanted. What did she want? She couldn’t remember. She looked back towards the door and then blinked. There was no door of course. Why would there be a door? You would only need a door if you wanted to leave, and why would you want to leave? There was a sale on.

   Humming along to the music, Sarah grabbed herself an empty trolley. She didn’t know what she wanted but she never could resist a bargain.

Kavan P. Stafford

is an author, poet and reviewer who lives and works in Glasgow, Scotland. His day job is working in Glasgow’s central library, the Mitchell Library and his work has appeared in various publications including The Big Issue, The Common Breath, Reservoir Road Literary Review and various others. You can follow him on Twitter @kavanpstafford.