I'm in the grocery store yesterday because the manager is a flake and can't ever remember when my bans end, and I'm looking for stuff for The Boy's birthday dinner and there is nothing really interesting about this post already and I think I remember reading somewhere that I'm supposed to have a"hook", but I'm not even sure I know what that means so I'll just put in a stripper pole.
So as I walk past the stripper pole and all the gyrating and grinding women with dollar bills poking out of their thongs like some angry bush made out of shamrocks, I decide to grab some milk from the dairy case and I promise I won't write anything about THAT decision because although it sounds interesting and what the fuck difference does it make if I ingest 1% fat vs fat-free, it really isn't interesting and I'm walking the razor's edge of boring you to death, but that's what happens when you read with FIRE! You might get burned!
So the strippers are pretty much humping everything and I've grabbed "some" milk of undetermined fat content, when I see this mom* walking into the store and she's got like a thousand kids with her and they are all vaguely dirty, like not gross with two trails of snot hanging out of their nose that you can see because of all the dust that has settled on them, but just a little smudgy at the edges, like all kids get by 5 o'clock at night in springtime. The thing is one of those little bastards has on an eye patch and that's a problem because I instantly think I'm about to be robbed or maybe shanghai'd. And I know that seems a little defensive but when you spent as much time as I have pretending your couch is a pirate ship, and the rug is the ocean and the dog is a great white shark named "Fish Sandwich", then this is pretty much a survival instinct.
Also any kid in an eye patch has been getting in some shit. You don't get eye patches sitting quietly at your desk and doing your cursive practice, you get it by putting your eye near shit it's not supposed to with malice to the EXTREME! You get it by poking things and squeezing things and fucking around, and yeah maybe this kid was cute and he had on big square plastic glasses over his eyepatch and he walked all slumpy like maybe he got yelled at in the car for robbing the Dutch of their gold in the Caribbean or whatever, but I know he's getting ready to run me through or slit my throat or wear a frilly shirt and flounce around a bunch. Also there is a chance he has some eye virus or something under that patch and if I get too close he will lift it and infect me, or maybe green light will come out and hypnotize me and he will totally steal my soul and I can't risk that because I would drop the milk and it would spill all over the strippers who are now whirring their panties around and putting their vaginas on mens' laps provocatively to the tune of "Can't Touch This" by MC Hammer, and that seems a little weird but I've never been in a strip club so I'm just guessing what pretend strippers might do.
So the pirate child and/or deadly virus assassin walk past me without incident and I am relieved but still I'm keeping one eye on him** in case he decides to start some shit, and I accidentally walk into the store manager who has already been alerted to my presence and he says "Has it been 10 days already?" and I'm all "Chuh! Buy a calendar, Poindexter!" and then I give myself a high five and he just looks at me funny. And I try to warn him about the fungal kid with the eyepatch except all the Nyquil and cat anti-depressants make my words slurry and what comes out sounds like "Twatting cuff nuts!" and I don't know what that even means when I hear it, and I make a face like "What the fuck did I just say?" and HE makes a face like "Cuff nuts?" and then I cuff his nuts and run away shouting "Freeeedom!" like Braveheart©. And I drop the milk before I get to the door in case they have one of those invisible gates that make people's heads explode if they try to steal and maybe I'm making that technology up but why risk it? Also, I'm not a dairy pirate.
*Your Mom. Also, I'm not assuming she was a mom here because I know the difference between sexy and sexist, and I've lived my life by those tenants, and also I asked her as she passed 'Are all these kids yours?" and she just whispered "Kill me." so that's a big "yes".
** Get it? One eye!? I'm like the Dom Deluise during the end credits of Cannonball Run of Pedophilia. I don't even know what that means, Just laugh. Do it! Do it!
PS: I should probably mention that if you have a child who wears or who has worn an eyepatch and you are all offended that I would make fun of a little kid for such an affliction that is probably out of his control, then I would like to ask "Are you new?" and I would hand you the 'Welcome to my blog" starter packet which features a glossy letter-sized brochure that says "Suck it up, Princess" and has a picture of me making wanking gestures in the air. Because I am a caring nurturer.