Another day at the grocery store, another day trying to figure out what to cook for the man who agreed to eat, only like, three different dishes and ten ingredients. Bo was sick of what he called the Montrose diet in his mind - corn and white bread and beans and pork, day after day after day, and absolutely no seasoning whatsoever. It was curious Montrose had that specific taste in food; the Bondurants had had some fancy chef before Dottie Maeâs passing. He had done lousy fucking job if his client nowadays only ate the most tasteless food in Terrebonne parrish. Or maybe, maybe he didnât want to remember those days, and ate the exact opposite food of what he had been enjoying 28 years ago.
    Or then Montrose simply wanted to be a pain in his sonâs ass, like usually, and his pickyness had no deep psychological meaning. And even if it did, it was a whatever in Boâs world. He just needed to be able to make Montrose take a few bites so heâd survive and no one could accuse him of starving his own father to death.
    He was strolling down the bread isle, closely observing the shelves (was there anything on sale?) meanwhile muttering to himself some well-chosen cuss words. The most pressing thought on Boâs mind, was that could he afford getting some food for himself from the Red Fish or literally any other place where the food tasted like something and not like what he imagined nothingness tasted like, when suddenly, he bumped into someone. Not that hard, but hard enough to send the bag of toasts he was holding flying to the other end of the isle. He had a very pissed look on his face, and when he turned around, it turned into something even more bitter. Because he recognized the person. If he would have been, like a teenage girl, he would have called him an enemy - but he was a reasonable man, and an adult, so he just thought of him with great disdain.
    âSo, in addition to beinâ the biggest bitch in the parrish, you are also the clumsiest fuckinâ person, apparently.â Bo said with a mocking frown. He motioned towards the other end of the isle. âLook what ya did to my toast.â
     it was typical, his useless father hadnât gone grocery shopping despite the list that evan leaves up on the fridge. he thought his unspoken system would work, write up a list and leave it for victor delgado to take care of. he at least could have added something he wanted, or something he saw that the two needed for their supply -- but no, the only handwriting on the pad of paper is his own. so, out of food and craving munchies in the worst way, evan grabbed his list and his wallet before leaving to go to the market. if his useless father wasnât the first indicator of how shitty this day is going to be, the moment he entered the market definitely tipped him off.
      the cart he grabbed had a wonky wheel, which meant that every time he went forward it would wobble, and then when he would make a turn, the car would need a little assistance by lifting it in place. this only made getting what he needed that much harder. then when he went for his favorite items, they were either completely empty or with one damaged package on the shelf. he should have just left the market when he noticed they were out of the peanut butter granola bars he likes.Â
      but he was determined to get something, whether it was the snack foods he kept near his bed while he got high, or something that would make a decent meal so he could feel like an adult for once. his day got better for about ten minutes, as he did put a few things in his cart including all the items needed to make rice and beans like his abuela did. then the good feeling was over as soon as his cart slammed into someone else, stupid wonky wheel.Â
      are you fucking serious, he though as soon as he heard that fucking voice. evan didnât like hating a lot of people. he hated his parents, that was about the extent of his hatred, but there was something about bo bondurant that added him to the list. evan shook his head, about to shove his cart away from him and walk out of the store, but bo just had to talk. âfuckinâ hilarious, you are, does it come natural or do you practice it?â he spoke between teeth as he reached in his car and fixed the mess that was made. âyouâre a big boy, you can go grab your fuckinâ toast or get some more. donât whine at me.â
