Posted in Funny, Humour, Writing

Supermarket Horror


Nicole Martin


It has always fascinated me that for some bizarre reason, supermarket trips have had a bad habit of attracting drama. Recently, when I innocently ducked into Woolies for a quick shop, I was lucky to escape alive.

I would dearly love to mind my own business and purchase my bunch of grapes and the like in peace, but it seems-no can do.

It was 7pm. It was dark.

My shopping list contained a few small essential items that my family had obviously decided we couldn’t live without for one more minute, and so I made a bee line for the store in the hope of escaping in a few short minutes.

It was pretty empty. Just the odd weirdo like me and a few dreary eyed looking suit people who had obviously just sat at a desk for 14 hours, had square eyes and were picking up a Mccains re-heat meal for dinner.

As I gathered items, my trolley somehow filled to the brim-I hate it how that happens. A few small essentials sneakily become rations, for a week and beyond. I’m not sure how my mind works when this occurs, but all of these boxes, tins and packets of stuff on the shelves, were into trickery of the most evil kind. They blackmailed me into assuming their necessity.

I rapidly put a lid on it and forged ahead with my over-sized shop, to the checkout-and that’s when I noticed it…

Looking back, I really wish I hadn’t.

A family of 8. Kids, parents, and grandparents had made their way to the checkout with their trolley-only one of their kids, clearly walked straight out of the store with ‘hot’ goods in his hand.

His dad followed-I wrongly assumed-to return the child to pay for the item. However instead, he lent over his kid and assisted him with opening the contents.

I looked at the checkout assistant, who in turn looked at me. We pulled funny faces at each other in disbelief. She appeared nervous and uncertain, but ran for the manager all the same.

Ok, I thought. So THEY’RE sprung! This will be interesting.

I kept quiet in my little space as the excitement unfolded around me. The manager came over-

“Yes I saw it, but there is nothing we can do”

“Are you serious?”- Now this came out of MY mouth I think, I’m not sure why, a knee-jerk reaction perhaps.

I told myself to stay out of it, but the voice within was feeling dangerously defensive of all the honest citizens in the world who pay for what is not theirs despite their financial situation.

-oh no. I could feel an issue brewing.

“Yes. There are rules. They could walk out with a whole trolley-and they do-but we cannot touch them.

“Well that’s ridiculous” -Nicole keep quiet I thought….but it was too late.

“We all saw them do it, can’t you politely remind them to pay for it?”

“Nope”-She said

Not good enough. If everyone else must pay, so must they. I turned to the grandmother behind me and smiled at her gently.

“Hello. You may not realise, but your little boy, forgot to pay for that chocolate milk.”

She gave me the death stare for what seemed like hours and then responded.

“I know dat. I know dat-Eh, Daniel…come over ‘ee wif dat chocolate milk” -She shouted, with a piercing tone

I jumped.

The little kid ran over, put his now empty milk on the counter, and they paid for it.

I continued to place my items to be scanned in an externally calm manner, but my inner nerve told me to watch my back- the checkout assistant kept her head low.

A few minutes passed and I peered in the family’s direction to judge their mood. The grandmother, was whispering in the burly father’s ear and pointing in my direction.

Here we go, it’s on.

Without hesitation, he came toward me, joining the rest of his clan. I kept a neutral expression.

“What you say ’bout my kid?”

I swung around and looked behind me, to give the impression I thought he was talking to someone else. My initial response was to play dumb, but I knew, it was too late for that.

“Oh, I didn’t think you’d noticed your little boy had walked out with a chocolate milk in his hand. My kids do it all the time, and I send them back to pay”

He stared at me for a while-

“My kids don’t buckin steal. Right? We got it from dat udder buckin shop”

He pointed in a very general direction. It was now 7:30, and all the shops were closed.

At this point, my mouth was on automatic pilot. I had no influence over it, clearly, as I responded with this…

“Ok. So did you get a receipt?”

The woman with the shrieky voice shoved the man aside and stepped in with her grey whispy hair and her three teeth.

Good God I thought. I hope she’s purchased toothpaste.

“Look. Shut yer buckin mouf yer buckin cant”

Excellent. A well thought out come back.

I looked at her, not moving. I looked at him.

“Please don’t swear at me. I am listening to you. Ok? I am listening.”

They retracted their steps the mother mumbling a few more expletives, the father still staring at me dying for the last day-

“You jus woch your buckin mannis lady…git”-He pointed to the exit.

I thought perhaps my manners had been a little rough around the edges and so declined to add anything further.

I politely ignored him, if ever there was a way to politely ignore someone, and paid for my groceries.

I parked my trolley right outside the checkout and stayed put, as I could see them all sniggering and staring at me in the distance.

The odd “Buck” and the odd “Daniel git eee, wotch your mouf” resonated off the walls.-because clearly, they were watching their mouths. They somehow managed to maintain their focus in my direction, whilst at the same time, consuming everything edible in their overflowing trolley. -and I’ve never seen so much toilet paper-diarrhoea?

I fiddled with my shopping as if in search for something to eat whilst my mind took in the last few minutes, and planned my next move.

I called Michael.




“I’m about to be beaten up”

A deep sigh from Michael.


“A bunch of people want to beat me up”

“Well I’m cooking dinner”

“Are you serious?”

“Where are you?”

“I don’t know”


“I’m in Mount Sheridan”

“Yes I realise that Nicole. Where in Mount Sheridan?”

“Oh……Coles…no wait, woollies”

“Just wait there. I’m coming”

As I hung up the phone, a member of the Woollies staff approached me.

“Are you ok? Would you like me to call security?”

“I’m fine, but yes please”

The security officer- a sizeable specimen-appeared in no time, with an enormous bunch of keys jiggling from his hip and an expression that meant business-you know that kind of ‘nobody mucks with me’ face?

“What seems to be the problem madam?”

Madam? Oh dear God-I am old, that just confirmed it.

“Evening Sir. There’s no problem, but would you mind escorting me to my car?”

“Of course.”

We passed the agitated family- they were hovering around with no obvious place to be except perhaps to even the score with me in their perceived favour.

“Have they been troubling you mam? I know them well”

Oh geez, drop the ‘mam.’ He may as well be calling me Matron, or senior citizen.

“Um. Not really. They haven’t touched me, but we had words, and their aggression was enough for me to double think walking to my car alone”

It was when I’d reached my car safely, that I’d remembered I’d called Michael to come and get me-Darn it.

-Oh for crying out loud. Now he’s going to think I’ve been kidnapped. I contemplated running back in to find him, but that would negate the whole reason for the escort.

My mind raced-Should I jump in my car and drive home before the three toothed lady found me? -but then Michael would be roaming around thinking I was dead.-Hmmm. Perhaps waiting for him to figure everything out would be the ticket.

I chose the latter and before I knew it, he was striding at pace, toward me.

“Hi babe, what brings you here so late at night?” I questioned with a wink.

Perhaps I’ll leave the stolen chocolate milk alone next time.

…but then this is the problem isn’t it?

A combination of fear and the Law, have made it impossible to defend one’s own property. Woolworths Lawyers have implemented a policy that essentially protects the perpetrators, deeming it illegal for the grocery store to enforce consequence for obvious theft.

Next time, I will go shopping blind folded.

Supermarkets are a dangerous place for me.


Inspired by WordPress Daily One Word Prompt


Shelf-‘Put it BACK on the shelf where you found it’

Posted in Funny

This story is not for the faint hearted.



Last weekend, we made our way down to Palm Cove (A popular, upmarket beachside town in Far North Queensland). It’s a great place for a coffee/lunch date and a walk.

It’s a Relaxing, beautiful place to spend time, with stunning tropical surroundings, postcard scenery, immaculate weather and a contagious holiday vibe.

Our dog Jasper, loves the walk along the beach, frolicking in the waves, chasing the tennis ball, greeting tourists and passing water on the odd tree, determined to make sure he owns the place, and all the other dogs have no doubt in that fact.

Here we all were.

All five of us, wandering along the footpath, parallel to the beach, making a beeline for lunch, summing up all the restaurants and trying to decide which was the most appealing, when Jasper decided he was going to cause a scene.

This was no ordinary scene.

We were positioned right in front of the playground, where children and their parents frolicked, playing on swings, spying through telescopes, and climbing obstacle courses. The busy beach road was to our left, and on the other side of the road in very close proximity, were restaurants with happy diners seated at open air tables, chatting, and taking in the serenity.

All of a sudden, free to all, Jasper began to do ‘The walk’.

Oh no I thought. Here we go.

‘The walk’ is when he takes us on a rather quick stepped trek to find a perfect ‘POOING’ position. Sometimes, he walks for a good 5 minutes until he finds a patch of grass that’s suitable to his tastes.

“Whenever you’re ready Wondeez” (Our nickname for him) Michael always pipes.

Today, of all places, he decided to park a coil (apologies for the course description) right in the middle of the road, in front of all the children, the diners, the cars driving past, and the beach goers.

Michael madly tried to stop him ‘mid-poo’ but it wasn’t going to happen. That’s where he stopped, and that’s where he was staying to do his business.

Looking around, I checked to see who had noticed, embarrassed our dog wasn’t a little more discreet.

Everyone had noticed.

“Why is he taking so long?” I asked Michael, desperate to get him out of there.

“I think it’s stuck”

“It’s stuck? Oh good Lord”

As if it wasn’t enough to drop his load in the middle of the footpath, he had to get it stuck as well. Half of it was out, the other half was HANGING out, but still attached, if you know what I mean.

“Oh God, pull it out Michael”

“Michael dipped his hat in aim of disguising himself”

Poor Jasper was quite distressed. He continued to crawl forward, in an attempt to free himself, but his sphincter was still open and his legs wouldn’t work. He inched himself forward, with his legs spread, kind of in crouch position, or a shmick new yoga pose.

That was enough for my two boys who booked out at a rapid rate of knots, not claiming any ownership of either Jasper OR Michael.

I thought about it, and when a little kid yelled “Daddy is that dog ok?” I quickened my step and placed some valuable distance between myself and the commotion.

I peered over my shoulder briefly, and anxiously calculated my position. Was I far enough away?

Michael was trying to literally drag Jasper to a more discreet location, pulling in desperation at his lead-the poor dog choking in protest-but he’d already dropped a few packages that needed to be picked up, and he was absolutely resistant to this plan.

“Come on Jasper. Come here” -as he dragged him, Jasper moving forward very slowly in crouch position.

I noticed him wave to the diners in the restaurant, who by now were cacking themselves. Parents and kids in the playground began offering their assistance….NOT me, I was out of there, and I couldn’t find the boys for all money. They’d booked out long ago.

I was beginning to become concerned. His poo was well and truly stuck.

I mean of all places. One of the most supreme beaches in Austalia, and my dog chose constipation as an activity he would like to partake in….in the middle of the road mind you, in front of the whole world. He couldn’t have possibly planned it better.

With the poo still dangling out of his nought, he attempted to rub his bottom along the grass.

“Nooooooo, I yelled. I ran over quick smart. I was moving in. This little episode had to be stopped.

2 seconds away from grabbing the plastic bags and yanking the damn thing out of his backside, there was a big plop, he kicked his little legs to cover it up…with WHAT I don’t know, gravel? Sand? …and he had a dog smile from ear to ear, tongue hanging out, totally fired up to continue his Journey.

“What’s the problem ?” I could here him saying
“Let’s go, let’s go, let’s go, yeah, yeah, yeah, I wanna chase the ball, yipeee, yipee. Can we go? Can we go?

Cheers surrounded us. Cheers from cars, cheers from diners, cheers from the playground, cheers from the beach, cheers from passers by.

Total nightmare.

Now. Where were we? Michael and I were considering a search party for the boys, who were missing in action for some time.

When we finally found one of them it was

“Oh my goodness Dad”… it was his fault.

Oh. That’s right. Lunch.

Lunch? No thank you, I’m no longer hungry.

…and the worst part, is, I can never show my face in Palm Cove again.


Posted in Funny, Stories

It’s wise to be suspicious when it comes to an 11 yr old

‘I received an e-mail from my youngest SON this morning.

I have never received one from him before by the way, he’s 11, and he’s at school as we speak.

I hope.

Please see below

What has he done this time
What has he done this time
Hang on, no. They'll call me to fetch him
Hang on, no. They’ll call me to fetch him
Phew, I'm safe
Phew, I’m safe
Bye Bye, Son
Bye Bye, Son
Please tell me he didn't just say that
Please tell me he didn’t just say that



This is the Story, I have been believing all day, for I have no reason to doubt my 11 year old do I?

I wondered how I was going to get the blood out of his white shirt, and pondered my approach.

I arrived at school for pick up-unusual as I am usually working- and along he prances, toward the car with his hands over his shirt.

“Show me” I demanded, suspiciously-I am ALWAYS suspicious.

He showed me with a smile from here to Texas.

Before I had the chance to open my mouth, he blurted out the following:

“Ha!!!! Pranked you. It’s fine mum, it’s tomato sauce.”

He appeared to be quite pleased with himself, but I was furious. It was worse than first anticipated.

I could see a small patch of white in his shirt, but it was mostly red. Tomato sauce covered it’s entire frontage.

“Are you serious Xavier?”

“Yep. Deadly. It’s only tomato sauce”

“I can see that. What I mean is, what the heck happened…and why….and YOU are so washing it yourself sunshine”

He wasn’t perturbed in the slightest.

“It’s a long, long, story”

I was happy for him to keep it to himself, but he launched into a detailed description, whether I liked it or not.

“You wouldn’t believe what happened. I was walking along, and I found a $5-00 note on the ground, so I thought..’sick’…and I ran to the tuck shop and bought some junk. A saussage roll and a drink, which I gave away because it wasn’t my money anyway, and you’ll see that’s why I haven’t eaten my lunch”

“You what? Why? It costs me money to make your lunch”

“Nope, I didn’t eat any of it, none of it. Not the carrot and not the salada’s…oh but I ate the chocolate cookie….and so I was eating my saussage roll and W kicked the soccer ball at me and ‘Whammo’, tomato sauce splashed everywhere. I only had two mouthfuls. That’s the second time that’s happened with tuck shop. The last time he kicked the soccer ball it also knocked my saussage roll all over the chair….so he owes me two saussage rolls now”

He said all of this with a huge smile through his gappy teeth, not at all fussed about what I would say.

“You should have seen our class today. It is the naughtiest class in history”

“Well that’s not good Xav”

“Yep. I don’t know how the relief teachers make it through the day, and poor Mrs G”

“Well I hope you’re not one of them”

“I am. I was a little bit cheeky, and I was kept in at lunch”- smiling

“Why are you happy about that?”

“Oh that’s nothing. I’m cheakier with L at swimming. She kicked me out of the pool once”

FLYNN pipes up-

“Are you stupid Xavier? You are completely incriminating yourself. You’re not even trying to lie”

ME:”I don’t know what to say, but trust me. I’ll think of something”

“And K got hit in the head with a ball 6 times today. So I was tomato head, and she was ball magnet”

“I feel like I’m in a strange mood. Do you think I’m in a strange mood mum?”

“No. The thought never crossed my mind…..and Xavier…”


“You are so washing that shirt tonight”


Posted in Funny


This is the way our family deals with Father’s Day-Almost every year.

Father’s Day? It’s Father’s Day? Oh blast, really? I thought it was next week? Wasn’t it in May? Did anybody buy dad anything?

“Don’t worry mum, I’ve got it sorted”- Xavier chirps

“I went to the Father’s Day stall at school”

Excellent, another year of back scratchers and mugs with ‘THE WORLD’s GREATEST DAD’ printed on them. We could do with another mug, there is a serious mug shortage in our house. At last count we were scrimping it on a mere 23 mugs. Including MY lovely two, with the words ‘World’s greatest mum’ printed across their shiny white porcelain surface.

“What did you buy him?”-I queried

“Dracula teeth”

“Dracula teeth? Yeah, he’s going to love it. By the way, where is he?”

Now Father’s Day is so important to us, that we decided to celebrate it by insulating the roof. Well, when I say WE….I mean Michael.

Although there are days I would very much like to shove him in the roof, today was a bit of a rough one. No coffee, no breakfast in bed, just him and some pink bats. I’m sure most families are having lovely breakfasts and lunches, laughs and toasts. Not us, there’s nothing like a fibreglass shower and some Dracula teeth for a treat.

“He’s in the roof”

“He’s where?”

“He’s in the roof”


…before I could respond, Xavier ran to the manhole and screamed


-No answer

“Daaaaaaaaad. Come down, I have a present for you”

Before too long, Michael’s footsteps could be heard tramping down the metal rungs of the ladder. He was absolutely filthy, sweating from every single square cm of his skin, and obviously itchy- if the possessed manner in which he was scratching was any indication.

Xavier in the meantime was so excited to give his dad the Dracula teeth, that he was dancing around like a clown and singing opera….? Strange I know, but this is one different kid.

Flynn-“Xavier, you are so loud in the morning”

Michael-“Xavier, your VOICE”

Xavier-“Dad, YOUR face”

Whilst everyone was getting along so famously, I noticed my eyes were uncontrollably itchy…

Me:”Oh no, I think I have something stuck in my teeth”

Flynn- “Your teeth?”

Me-“I mean my eyes, my eyes”

Xavier, noticing Michael was duct taping up his shirt (He duct tapes everything in sight..btw), decided it would be fun to duct tape up his dad’s mouth. The mere suggestion, prompted Flynn to announce;

“If anyone’s mouth is going to be duct taped Xavier, it’s not going to be dad’s”

Xavier immediately filled the air with another humongous baritone note, just in case the place wasn’t noisy enough.

-Meanwhile, Flynn began making himself a coffee.

He was quite meticulous and was appearing to take his time with the finer details.

Me-“Is that normal coffee Flynn or decaf? It better be decaf!” I warned

He paused for a moment as if deeply puzzled, then peered into the cup.

Me-“So? Normal or decaf?”

Flynn-“It appears I have forgotten to add the actual coffee”

Michael-“So it’s just hot water?”

Flynn looking at Michael as if he was completely stupid.

Flynn-“No dad. Hot water AND sugar”

Michael looked at me in disbelief, words clearly escaping him.

Xavier promptly jumps in-

Xavier-“Wake up dozy”

Extremely happy his brother was less than perfect for once, he smugly pushed him aside and began to make HIS cereal.

He picked up the coffee jar, that Flynn forgot to use, and began to smother his rice bubbles with it.

Me-“Nice. Coffee flavoured rice bubbles now Xav”

His eyes grew wide and his hands jerked to a halt.

Xavier- “Oh noooooooo. I could have sworn that was sugar”

Happy Father’s Day Michael…..Michael? …-and just like that, he was back in the roof.

Posted in Who am I?

About this site




It’s me.

Who are you?

Is this the first time you have been here?

Hmm, well I’m chuffed you popped in for a visit.

My name’s Nicole by the way.

I write.

-and I’m a human-Just in case you were wondering if this was a picture of me at the top of the page.

I just love this cute little buddy chilling his mind with a spot of meditation.

I hope you’re human, otherwise I’m speaking with a keyboard.

Let’s have some fun.

Let’s Laugh until our bellies hurt, smile until our cheeks pop, and cry with every inch of our souls.


Guess what?

Do you want to know something?

Your words will set you free.

 Your writing will give you wings.



Can you feel the gentle breeze in your hair?

Can you feel yourself soaring through infinite skies?

Trust yourself.

Take risks and learn.

Be passionate.

Be sincere.

Fail and Learn

Fail and Learn

Fail and Learn

and then-

Fail and Succeed.

There are no rules on my site.

There is no judgement.

There is really only you,

and me,

right now.

So let yourself relax, and show me, through your words

who you really are.

Please leave me a message, I’d love to hear from you.

Just quickly,

I have a few secret rooms hidden within this site


You have managed to find the key to the first one





Sneak a peak here

A tip-

All highlighted words or phrases are links.

Click on them, and you will be led to another room of words 

Find a key like this one


and it will unlock 

a secret room

only found in that one unique place. 







 This was me yesterday, when I imprudently tackled a million steps in the middle of a Far North Queensland Summer.

The face I will never forget

I am John


 To my Boy