Here’s the next instalment of Checkout Chick. Click on the link to read what’s happened so far…



Cripes Alive. Always comes a time when you find out something about bloke you fancy that suddenly makes him seem less fanciable. Happened today with Bright Eyes. Knew he was too good to be true, men that good looking have to have something wrong. Was happy to settle with bad fashion sense and perhaps even boring personality when it came to Bright Eyes. Like Kimi Raikkonen. Handsome man, Kimi, but when he starts talking in post-race interviews you just want to shoot yourself to stop hearing his dreary monotone voice.

Shame, really. About Bright Eyes, not Kimi, but shame about him, too. Shame about Bright Eyes because before his revelation there’d been this desire-ridden moment where he’d touched me and had been close enough for me to smell him and everything about him had been utterly delicious.

Slow day; stock return. Mondays always slow days and thus hardly any staff on grocery. Returning can of peas which of course had to be on top shelf. Cannot reach top shelf and couldn’t be arsed going to grab the step. So stood on bottom shelf and half on bottom shelf and half climbed my way up to place peas back when voice very close behind said, ‘here, let me,’ and hand was placed on back, peas taken from grasp and put onto shelf that was having trouble reaching anyhow.

Slowly stepped backward, hand still on back and kind of guiding me downwards. On flat ground spun around to see blue (green?) eyes of Bright Eyes looming down at me. Cripes – so gorgeous. Noticed different things. That lips quite full. That nose is perfectly triangular. That ears jut out just a little bit but what the hell does that matter?

Barely managed, ‘thank you.’

‘You’re welcome,’ was his reply. Then said, ‘you not on checkout today?’

Hope against hope, think he may have been disappointed by this. ‘Oh no, am. Just returning some items.’

Hope against hope, he smiled at this. He said, actually said, ‘missed you last week. On leave? Was served by rather slow girl-‘

‘Slow Sarah. I apologise. Girl needs a cattle prod up her arse.’

He raised eyebrows at this. So said, ‘ah, country term. You’re from the city, yes? Cattle prod would speed her up because-‘

‘Oh, I get the picture.’

Felt like comedian losing his audience. Asked if he was done with his shop, would take him through myself. Bright Eyes just needed some baked beans and then we were on way.

Not sure why, but felt much better, much more comfortable when there was a checkout between us. Like was in control. Wasn’t. Bright Eyes so dazzling.

‘Found out on the weekend you’re Paddy’s sister.’

Comment both pleased and terrified me. Pleased because it meant that Bright Eyes was talking about me outside of the supermarket. Very pleasing. Terrified because he knew Paddy. Knew how? Paddy lovely, lovely man. Lovely brother. But sometimes Paddy has problems. Sometimes Paddy not so lovely. Didn’t know which Paddy Bight Eyes knew. The lovely or not so lovely? If the latter than may very well be judged by association. Not good.

‘Not hard to tell,’ I said. ‘Look very similar, Paddy and me.’

‘Not that similar. You’re far more attractive. But don’t tell Paddy I said that.’ Smile.

Wanted. To. Die. Settled for, ‘ha, ha, ha, ha.’

Then the most terrible news. ‘Tells me you helped out a bit with his work at the church.’

Oh, crap. Utter crap. So that’s how Bright Eyes knew Paddy. At other world I have no part in. Paddy’s other life. Bright Eyes was a fecking Catholic. ‘You know Paddy from church?’ Please don’t let it be so, please don’t let it be so.

‘Yeah, of course, but-‘

Not interested. No longer interested. ‘That’ll be fifteen dollars seventy five.’

Bright Eyes taken back with abrupt end of conversation. Dam it all, was so close, too. He said I was attractive, did he not? Actually said I was more attractive than Paddy. But Paddy attractive man, which must mean that am not complete minger. Bet Bright Eyes thought, being Paddy’s sister, obviously Catholic myself; these things often go in families. Bright Eyes thought he’d found himself a good Catholic Girl. How wrong he could be! No Catholic would want to touch the likes of me with a ten-foot staff, or sceptre or whatever the hell it is the priest carries into mass with him.

Bright Eyes suddenly not so bright. Eyes too blue, if you know what I mean. Too good looking. Yes, is possible. Like Miranda Kerr. Look at her long enough and you realise she’s a little odd-looking. Eyes too far apart. Dimples too deep. Mouth too large.

In a perfect world Bright Eyes wouldn’t be Catholic and I’d have rampant sweat-enducing sex with him before discovering something that made him unattractive. Thing I’ve learnt, though. World very much not perfect place.




Driving along and saw tall man walking along side of road. Bright Eyes. Not in normal dress. Jeans and hoodie. Still incredibly gorgeous. Have decided – can’t hurt to perve, right? Know deep down nothing would happened anyhow so Catholicness null and void. Bright Eyes good looking older man. I, average-looking checkout chick. Was never going to be


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Filed under Checkout Chick, Fiction

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