Who You Going To Call?

Today started off with me glued to my couch, trapped in a vortex of gloom. You know, one of those days where even your coffee needs a pep talk to bother perking up. But, as fate would have it, my dwindling toilet paper fortress and the echo in my snack cabinet finally nudged me out of my funk. So, with a heroic burst of energy that would make a sloth blink twice, I hopped on my bike, using the noble quest for bulk goods at Costco as my rallying cry.

Riding through the streets, I felt the wind in my hair and my spirits lifting. I arrived at Costco, parked my noble steed (read: slightly rusty but trusty bike), and met up with my partner in crime, Mo. Mo and I, armed with our oversized shopping cart, were ready to conquer the aisles of wholesale glory. Little did we know, we were about to embark on an adventure that would make our usual shopping spree look like a walk in the park.

Just as we were debating the merits of a 4-pack of a2 milk (because, really, who needs that milk … think latte?), the atmosphere shifted. The air turned colder, and the fluorescent lights flickered ominously. And then, out of nowhere, the Ghostbusters rolled in, proton packs at the ready, turning our ordinary Costco run into the set of a paranormal showdown.

“Attention, Costco shoppers,” boomed a voice, echoing off the concrete floors and towering stacks of merchandise. “Please remain calm, but we’ve got some uninvited spectral guests today.”

Mo and I exchanged glances. Our shopping trip had suddenly turned into a front-row seat to a ghostly invasion. Shoppers huddled together, watching in awe as the Ghostbusters charged through the aisles, zapping invisible foes with their proton beams. The ghostly howls and the smell of ozone filled the air, adding a level of excitement to our shopping trip that we hadn’t anticipated.

In the midst of the chaos, I couldn’t help but chuckle at the absurdity of it all. Here we were, just trying to stock up on bulk goods, and instead, we were dodging stray energy beams and spectral shoppers from beyond the grave. At one point, a ghostly figure zoomed past us, knocking over a display of Kirkland Signature nuts, causing a cascade of nutty goodness. Mo, ever the opportunist, snagged a rogue package, quipping, “Hey, free snacks!”

After what felt like an eternity (but was probably more like 20 minutes), the Ghostbusters declared the store officially “ghost-free.” The crowd erupted into cheers, and the Costco staff, ever efficient, began the monumental task of tidying up the aftermath of the spectral showdown.

As Mo and I checked out, our cart slightly more filled than intended (thanks to the adrenaline-fueled shopping spree), we couldn’t help but feel a little thrilled by our unexpected adventure. Sure, we came for the bulk goods, but we left with a story that would forever change our view of a Costco run.

And just like that, #$%@ed up day turned into an epic tale of ghosts, giggles, and gallons of a2 milk. Only in Missoula could a day that started with such gloom end with ghostly excitement and the promise of more supernatural escapades. *Note: This post was probably exaggerated!