He dumped his purchases on one side of the till and scanned the jug of milk, The machine beeped, informing him of a higher price than he'd expected, but such was the nature of supermarkets. He'd lost count of the number of times he'd impulse purchased on a 'any two for the price of--' offer, only to find that the offer didn't cover anything remotely indicated by the placement of the board. He scanned the milk shake and the shirt, mildly surprised to find it went through without alerting the staff to the damaged packaging and bloodstained shirt inside.
“I never got the hang of these.” Dill stood to one side as Harold scanned his loyalty card and tried to feed a ten pound note into the slot. “They always insisted I'd ut a foreign object on the paid tray. I don't see how I could have done. I've never been out of the country.”
“Not unless you count Wales.”
“Nobody counts Wales.”
“Never, then. Honestly, it gets embarrassing when you have to call the checkout supervisor to clear your purchase of condoms, dog biscuits and whipped cream.”
“I didn't know you had a dog.”
“I don't, but next door does. He used to look so sad, chained up by the front door and I started giving him biscuits. It got to the point he'd wag his tail and salivate when he saw me, thus paving the way for some creative wiring and a piggybacked cable TV connection.”