I will trade you a six pack for that sausage

A pre-warning to all readers : I am in a weird mood, read on and you will likely agree..

I was shuffling around a grocery store list in hand, blissfully dreaming of the soft sofa and pixelated images of men kicking balls and spitting. I then remembered what I was supposed to be doing....

 The Sofa law of 1947 declared - On any given Sunday, a working man will have the legal right to lie down on the sofa, scratch himself at will and engorge his eyeballs with sport. Men will also be legally obligated to tune out all other distractions for at least a three hour period, depending on the sports region and the understanding that his spouse may want to cut his balls off and put them in her purse.

So, there I am mazing the aisles debating the merits of non-scented bleach and 3-ply tiolet paper. I was blinded by a crazy and really frightening idea, what if we were trapped in the store and had to occupy an aisle like a little kingdom. A nutbag reality show to see who could use and barter each others aisle goods? Can't be any worse than the vomit on the box today.

Which aisle would survive the longest? originally everyone would trade fast and furious canned goods for cheese, milk for bread, beer for coffee and so on.
In the end I assume the winner would be whoever occupied the tampon and toilet paper aisle, these being pure necessities of vanity and hygene that most of us would skip a meal or two for.

I just made an appointment with my doctor, I think I need my dosage adjusted.
Be back soon.