The clerk told me I could find it in aisle 7, but as much as I looked, up and down the shelves, left to right and back again, I couldnāt find it, not a one. It didnāt seem like the right aisle at all, since the things I did see were totally unrelated items. For instance, there was shaving cream and after-shave, old brands, like Burma Shave and Aqua Velva. I knew there was something about an Aqua Velva man, but I was sure I didnāt want to know what it was. There were books, two books to be precise, both collections of racy cartoons, Over Sexteen and Sam, the Ceiling Needs Painting. I saw packages of Sichuan peppercorns and French ticklers, side by side. Lug nuts galore. A couple of 45 rpm records, āThe Ballad of the Green Berets,ā by Sgt. Barry Sadler and āGallant Men,ā by Senator Everett Dirksen. A travel-size navel-lint remover. Legal formsāassisted death templates from a state that permits such things. A few splits of Chianti, in those straw-covered bottles. Chinese coloring books from the Cultural Revolution. Environmentally friendly toilet bowl cleaner, in unscented and fresh scent. But not what I was looking for. I caught the clerkās attention as he was passing buy. āAre you sure you told me the right aisle?ā I said. āI canāt find any.ā He came over, moved some sticks of dynamite on the bottom shelf, and found one that had fallen behind the dynamite. He handed it to me. āYouāre in luck,ā he said. āThe last one.ā