Nomen Est Omen

Dude Get OFF My Face!

Been having some serious writer's block lately but I do have a little story to share in the meantime so grab the popcorn kids, this one's a doozie. (Aren't they all?)

ALL I wanted was a pack of smokes. But, as with anything, I cannot complete a simple task without some sort of drama being involved. Sigh..I swear, what is it with people?

Ok, so about 11 the other night I decided to venture on to the local 24 hour Wal-Greens to get some smokes. See? Innocent! I walk in and wait patiently for my turn. I get to the counter and they have run out of the brand I like so rather than plunk down money for another kind, I decided to check out another 24 hour store about a block or so away.

I walk in to this other store and request my brand. They, too, do not have this brand. OY! These are the only two 24 hour stores I know of and now, even though I wasn't earlier, I'm really joneson for the nicotine just because I can't have what I want. You know how it is. I'm merely human.

So I get a different kind that's alright and while the clerk is ringing this purchase up, this old, fat clerk, he starts asking me all sorts of questions. You know, the personal ones that I think shop owners and clerks really don't need to know? Still, I don't like to be rude either and I stupidly, stupidly, stupidly answer them truthfully every single time because I have, again, learned NOTHING.

He asks if I'm from here, how long have I lived here, am I married, (you see where this is going), do I have a boyfriend, blah blah blah. Because I am not good at lying nor saying things like, "None of your damn business asshole", I answer all these questions accordingly.

One could almost see the gleam in the dirty old man's eyes. He then asks what I do for a living and when I tell him I'm looking for something full time and permanent, he starts talking about a job. Ok! Well maybe we are on to something here. I stand to the side and wait while he helps other customers because hey, this is a job we're talking about...let's see where this goes.

Eventually we end up outside because apparently we are both having ourselves a nicotine fit and he starts asking me why Americans are the way they are, no morals, always dating around, selfish and such as if I personally held the key to this answer.

Which, I do but I'm not allowed to reveal it because I'm being paid off by big media. In fact, it is I who has ripped a large hole in the fabric of our moral society for my own personal gain and it was right of him to ask ME.

I start throwing out some b.s. answers and try to steer the conversation back to this job he was talking about. Oh but he wasn't finished. He decided to tell me that he believes the man should take care of the women and apparently? Because I just moved here and don't have employment yet? That obviously means that I need a sugar daddy. It does not matter that I have done a lot, a lot, a lot to get here pretty much on my own, that I drove thousands of miles in a rental car and sacrificed, scraped and suffered through crap to get here, I, helpless little girl that I am, NEED this guy. And he's here for me just in time!

Jeezus Krist!

Yes, he stated that he would like to date me. In fact, he knows I'm a great person and that this relationship would work out fantastically. Why don't I come over to his house tomorrow and he'll make me dinner! Brilliance!

I told him that I would be doing no such thing. I told him I'm not comfortable with that idea and that it would not be happening. He says, "I'm safe. I'm not going to kill you."

Let's allow that to sink in for a moment before we continue.

He kept insisting that I come to his house to see him. Ok, look, I wouldn't do this anyway but I am certainly not going to do this with someone I'm not attracted to in any way whatsoever, who is that damn pushy, who doesn't listen nor respect what I'm saying back....you see, it was all about what he wanted and who cares what I want, I mean, it's not like he's going to kill me.

I was just getting ready to tell him that I thought it best I go when the crotchety old bitch grabbed my face in his hands and tried to fucking kiss me on the mouth! I SHIT you not! I bowed my head just in time to feel his old, wrinkled lips on my forehead before ripping my face out of his grasp.

Tha hell!?

For God's sake all I wanted was a fucking pack of smokes and I got Grandpa trying to make out with me in the parking lot!

So, that's it. The gloves are off. I'm done being nice to people when they start in with the Spanish Inquisition. Screw tact, screw manners. I'm done.

Posted by S. Faolan Wolf at July 10, 2005 06:59 AM | TrackBack