Wandering towards bold glowing red letters, S A F E W A Y. It must have been after a show, there is a riled up trouble making smashing breaking feeling attached to the memory. Rascals, Selena and Caleb for sure, maybe Anthony?, Jeremy?, Roman?, who else I am not so sure. Arriving in safeway, a pack of loud, wandering, bulk food snacking kids, probably a evening managers nightmare. Coconuts on sale. Such a novelty, there is no resisting the impulse purchase, we cave in. Through the checkout, coconut lolling about on conveyer black, scanner flash red.

Outside, across the street now, loading dock. Pawing it over and realizing that we have just purchased a coconut without having a single thing to break it open. This realization is succeeded by fits of primitive violence inflicted on the poor coconut as it is smashed and thrown against the cement rather caveman like. Finally it yields its tender soft interior in shattered pieces. Greedily we gnaw at the broken chunks in the shape they have taken, ghetto style wins again.

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