The news is out. War has been declared. If you don’t believe me, just check your latest grocery store flyer. Now, you can see for yourself, it’s on the front page, almost dead centre. Thank God it won’t start until Thursday, we still have 48 hours to prepare. Only 24 hours if you live outside Trinity South, cause we get our flyers a day earlier here. Yes, it’s true. The hams are on sale again. Less than a dollar a pound, or whatever that is in kilograms. Food has gotten so expensive the eggs are delivered by armored car – and that was before the Carbon tax, now that same armored car comes with a military escort. Don’t laugh! I was held up at the gas station last week for almost an hour while they refueled the armored car. There were a dozen soldiers there and each one had an assault rifle. They must have rented the rifles from some American tourists who figured they wouldn’t have any use for them until they went back home, and why not make a little money on the side.

I’ll never forget the last time this happened, it was over a year ago. You would think the grocery store chain would have learned their lesson from that. Guess it’s true what people say, ‘That crowd’s gone mad for money. They’ll never get enough.’ Then there’s that nice young man who advertises for the cheaper brands, saying they’re every bit as good as the more expensive ones. He could be right about that, but I’ve been checking it out myself and sure enough, the ingredients are the same, it’s just the amount of actual product is less. I can remember when many families owned their own cow – sure today you’d have to be a millionaire to own your own cow, and the cost of guarding it 24/7 would be impossible for most of us. Even I know a cow’s worth more dead than alive. Sure a laying hen is worth its weight in gold and a pork chop costs a day’s pay if you’re working a minimum wage job.

Back to the matter at hand. War has been declared! So what do we do to prepare for it? We could do the really smart thing and avoid the supermarket until the sale is over – that way we’re sure to be safe from harm. But then the freezer’s almost empty and payday is still three weeks away. You could plan to be there early and avoid the rush like you did last time, but remember, the line up was a quarter of a mile, or whatever that is in kilometers, and every one of those seniors there was armed to the teeth. Some even had walkers to go with their canes. (Don’t think I’m making fun of older people, I’m over seventy myself.)

Sure, there’s Aunt Lizzie from down the north shore, she’s one of them with the walker and the cane. I saw her coming out of two different Bingo halls last week and she wasn’t using either of them, not to mention on Sunday when she was coming out of the church. Sure Mavis up the bay is just as bad, and don’t get me started on old Mary down the harbour.

Now, I know I shouldn’t be picking on the women, because their partners in crime are just as bad, waiting at the automatic checkout with the empty cart. Take Fred, Aunt Lizzie’s man, for instance. They’ve been married going on sixty years and he’s eaten so much of that cheap ham his veins and arteries are hard. Aunt Lizzie got a deal signed with the local cement company – they’re going to use them to reinforce the concrete drainage pikes when he dies. Seems they’re twice as strong as rebar for less than half the price. A whole new spin on being an organ donor. Who would have thought of that, except maybe some homegrown entrepreneur fresh out of MUN.

Just so you know I’m not some old fool who doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I’ll tell you what happened the last time there was a Ham War around here. Now, like they say on the evening news, some of the information in this story can be disturbing to some, so please keep this story out of the reach of small children or religious fanatics. As a disclaimer, I have to say, I myself was not close enough to the scene to be considered an eyewitness, but I was close enough to confirm that the details are fairly accurate. And, no offence to Aunt Lizzie, but I can confirm she was one of the principal suspects in the unfortunate incident that took place.

It was early on a Thursday morning in spring, just last year. There was a long lineup, but Aunt Lizzie and her co-conspirator, Fred, were fifth in line (this is not Aunt Lizzie’s fault, she did tell Fred to speed up several times on the way up the shore, she doesn’t know what it is about him and those whales he’s always looking to see). Now, Aunt Lizzie, she’s like the cat, and those tennis balls on the walker makes it almost impossible for the average human being to hear her coming. She’s even given her cane a fresh coat of varnish since they had those turkeys on sale before Christmas. She maneuvered herself in front of the cooler where the hams are on display, turned sideways there with the walker in front of her an the shiny cane behind. And lo and behold but she hasn’t developed a serious twitch in her left arm that caused the cane to fling itself up and down uncontrollably, thus blocking off the entire cooler from other customers. The sign says “Limit 2 to a Customer” but no worries, Fred has his own debit card because his pension checks go into his own account. So this means at least four hams – Fred has already removed the spare tire and jack from the trunk of the car. It was a perfect plan, almost. It seems no one thought of the young man home from Alberta for the first time since he left right after trade school years ago. The same young man who thought all he had to do was reach into the cooler and grab a ham…

The official cause of death was blunt force trauma to the head caused when the young man’s body was thrown against the canned soup display with violent force. What caused the said violent force was determined to be the young man’s cowboy boots, which were wet, making contact with the freshly polished floor. Although the medical examiner and his young assistant agreed on the exact cause, they were at odds on whether it was Chicken with Rice or Beef and Barley that caused the fatal blow.
Aunt Lizzie and Fred stood by in shock.

But, there were several customers nearby, myself included, who noticed Aunt Lizzie was holding her cane at the wrong end and the twitching in her left arm had stopped. Thank goodness the unwitting young man had long hair – the RCMP crime lab in Ottawa was able to confirm his identity in less than two weeks.

Down at the Fifty Plus club where we all gathered no one said anything out loud, but silently we all agreed that the young man was an unfortunate casualty of the Ham Wars.

Cyril Griffin
New Perlican, NL