We stopped at the supermarket to pick up a few essentials. My wife wanted to do some baking but there was this huge empty space on the store’s shelf. I called a clerk over.

“Where have all the flours gone?” I asked.

“I guess we’re all out,” she said.

“How can you be out of flour? Are you sure there’s not some in the storeroom?”

“I’ll go check,” she said, and disappeared.

A few minutes later she reappeared, her store manager in tow.

“I’m afraid we’re all out of flours,” he said. “There were a bunch of young girls in here yesterday, girl scouts, with a big baking project. They picked them all up, loaded their carts, and away they went. They picked them every one.”

“Do you know when you’ll get more in?”

“I’m not sure,” the manager told me. “Likely a long time passing.”

“Well, we’ll just have to go to another store,” I said to my wife.

We thanked the manager and clerk and headed toward the door.

“When will they ever learn?” my wife muttered in disgust. “When will they ever learn?”