I went to Borders in Sanbusco Market yesterday on my lunch break to purchase a birthday gift for a friend. I have been avoiding human contact a little more than usual lately because of all this pig-germ scare, so I decided to go at about 2:00P thinking that who, with any semblance of a real job, would be hanging out at Borders at 2:00 in the afternoon on a Thursday (myself certainly being the exception)... 
Sanbusco MarketWell, if you are at all familiar with the Borders at Sanbusco, you know that there is a front entrance and a back entrance. I chose the back entrance because I was looking for a CD and the music section is at the back of the store. I don't consider myself lazy, I just try to do everything in my power to limit exertion.
I go inside, and much to my surprise, there are numerous people shuffling about the store. Initially, I do not pay much attention to this detail until, all of a sudden, I began to notice the noise.
A little wheeze, a little chortle, some throat clearing, a nose blowing in the distance—
My palms began to sweat, and I felt my heart begin to beat faster.
Then all hell broke loose!
A riot of coughs, snorts and spasms, as well as other revolting and indefinable human bewailing.
As my survival instinct kicked in, my eyes began to dart. I started taking notice of my surroundings and, most importantly, I realized that I had come face-to-face with something that I believe most people would consider pure evil—a building full of pasty, frail and diseased afternoon book-readers!!
Terrified, I immediately knew that I had to take cover. Since I had just found the CD that I was looking for, I scurried (yes, I scurry when I feel threatened) to the "Classical Music" section, knowing that no one would be there, and I could, perhaps, take a few moments to re-group.
I began to consider my options. Unfortunately, Borders has installed those scanner things at the exits making it nearly impossible for me to just clepto the damn CD. If only I could make it to the check-out quickly and get the hell out of this nightmare.
I cautiously lifted my head above the CD rack to look in the direction of the check-out stand that is located at the back of the store.
What I saw then made my head spin. The check-out at the back of the store was completely closed—they had even removed the registers! When will the fallout of our dismal economy come to an end? How long can retailers keep expecting customers to act human when we continue to be treated like cattle?
I then came to the horrific realization that I would have to traverse the entire store to complete my purchase.
I felt like a caged animal and those germ-riddled book-readers were closing in. I knew that my alone-time in the "Classical" section was coming to an end and I would have to make a break for it.
I wondered why these human petrie dishes were even there. I can understand running into them at say the pharmacy, or even (as disgusting as it may be) the grocery store. Both places provide basic necessities for sustaining human life. But a book store? What in the hell do any of them need at a bookstore that would justify putting my life in jeopardy? Come on, for once in your book-filled existence think of someone other than yourself!
Damn frail, sickly little book-readers—killing me on a perfectly good Thursday afternoon.
I just wanted to scream at all of them: "Put the books down! Go home! This isn't the stone age! Haven't you heard? We have TELEVISION!!!
Stupid books.
But you know how self-righteous those book-readers are...with all their fancy "learning" and "knowledge"—bastards.
I started to make a plan. I figured that I could probably hold my breath until I would be able to duck into the "Reference" section (another pocket of isolation), then one last surge to the front of the store and sweet, sweet escape.
But I was worried.
The deluge of book-reader expectoration had filled the entire building with a pork-scented napalm that was as thick as a Star Jones fart cloud.
I thought I was going to die.
Then, suddenly, I saw my chance. An escape route—a direct line to the check-out stand—I just had to dodge between two thick chicks and some androgynous emo thing.
I took my chance, and was fortunate to have survived to write this post.
Mark my words—those pasty little afternoon book-readers want to kill us all!
email me: Teezy
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A light slapping of people in the face with a magazine (Women's magazines like "Vogue" or Cosmo tend to be too thick, try "Maxum" or "Men's Fitness") is a quick and easy remedy to keep the sickies away.
ReplyDeleteYou know, I really, really LOVE hitting people—I have since I was a child.
ReplyDeleteBut, with all the restraining orders, pending litigation, psychological evaluations, blah, blah, blah..I can barely even spit at people anymore without getting into some sort of trouble.