Overhead lights buzz like big fluorescent honey bees. Two fat women with cheeks like tomatoes slug through the bright aisles in baggy black sweatshirts and camouflage pajama pants. They reek of weed and hard-to-reach dirty places. I pass them in aisle nine. Their cart bursts with hot dogs, potato chips, easy-cheese, Mountain Dew, Oreos and … More getting my vodka for the week