Allow me to translate.
Lo, but one day ago a fair patron graced my lane with her sweet presence. Immediately upon her arrival the aroma of excrement settled about the place, and after the discreet inspection of the posterior of her raiment, it became obvious to me that she had soiled her trousers. In her possession was nothing more than a bag of vittles for a dear feline companion, encased in the gossamer chrysalis of a produce bag. As I made ready to remove said chrysalis so that the scanner could more readily reach out its crimson gaze upon the barcode, the lady protested. "Ah!" she exclaimed, "remove not these vittles from their vessel!" I endeavoured to reply, but suddenly found myself overtaken by the pungent scent of her effluent. Unable to draw breath, and wracked with spasms as my body struggled to reject the vile venom of her fecal insult, I somehow managed to complete the transaction and subsequent bagging of the odoriferous lady's item. Spewing a final unrepeatable epithet in my direction as she made her departure, the guest exited the premises, trailed by a nearly visible haze of earthly stench. Shaken by the encounter, I turned to the next guest in line who congratulated me for my grace and courage under the pressure of the previous guest's olfactory assault.