Time ✓

Late Afternoon Time Travel

Of all the things I liked doing on a late afternoon, burning to death in a flaming inferno that once was my local supermarket had never quite made the top ten.

Of course, I wasn't thinking about this ten minutes before the explosion; I was too busy trying to select the best brand of frozen peas. I stared down the five potential brands. It was the tenth-to-last item on my checklist before I could escape this infernal shop. I never did like supermarkets. They always tended to have that same soulless, hospital-like ambiance to them, with their harsh fluorescent lighting and endless aisles.

"Go for the own-brand eight-pack combo."

I frowned. "Excuse me?"

A gangly shop assistant was shuffling restlessly next to me. He pointed at the own-brand eight-pack combo. "This one." He pulled it off the shelf with some difficulty. It was bigger than his torso. "It may be, in total, more expensive. But it's better value-for-money per pea."

"Per pea?" I repeated, slightly in awe that he had been bothered to count.

He shrugged. "Yeah. I know. Tragic. Kills the time though, right?"

I nodded politely, and turned on my heel to walk quickly to the bread aisle. I just wanted to get this all over with so I could return home. The last thing I needed was some lanky shop assistant explaining pea frugality to me.

"So are you going for the own-brand eight-pack combo or the imported single-pack?"

I jumped nearly half a mile into the air. "For god's sake, I can do without either!"

The shop assistant dropped the colossal eight-pack with a hefty sigh. "Well you could have told me earlier!" He brushed his shirt down. "Is there anything else you need my assistance with?"

"No. Thank you?" I added wearily.

"No, seriously, I'm here to help. It says so on my badge. Plus," he added, leaning back on a shelf of pre-cut loaves, his voice dropping into the heavy tone of a confession, "I'm just trying to kill the time."

I sighed loudly. I had no idea how to shake him off without skipping half of my shopping list. "Yes?" I asked eventually. "Why's that then?"

"I've got to witness something pretty nasty soon."

I didn't doubt that he was exaggerating greatly. Perhaps he had some chores to do back at home, or maybe he was breaking up with some pitiful young lady who'd actually agreed to be his girlfriend. "Go on."

"There's a neo-Nazi bomber in this supermarket."

I lost my grip on the shopping basket handle, and it clattered to the ground. The shop assistant swore, and we both dove to the ground to scoop up the fallen food items before they rolled away.

"You can't just say things like that," I hissed, straightening up and backing away coldly.

"Well, it's true!" he declared.

"Oh, yeah, okay, sure thing. Clearly you, a teenaged shop boy, must be completely informed about military intelligence about a bomb threat."

"I am twenty-four!" he announced, affronted. "And actually, the government don't know."

My jaw slackened. "Oh my god. So, what, you're in on it?"

"Well," the shop assistant backtracked, "the government don't know about it yet. They will know once it's happened. That's how I know, obviously."

"What?" I scoffed. "You're saying that the government in the future sent you a message, back in time, to inform you that there's a neo-Nazi in my local supermarket?"