PARDON ME SIR
So yesterday I was standing in line at the grocery store. I'm like fourth in line behind three people who are buying groceries for their entire village, apparently. And the store manager, or line runner, or needless meddler, or whatever he is, motions me over to the 15 item or less lane, which is currently empty. Now keep in mind, I've got exactly thirty-two items, thirty-seven if you consider my six-pack of Milwaukee's Best as six items instead of one. But anyway.
At first I stand in my current line, knowing that I would be violating the sacred 15 item rule. But Frowny McFrownster keeps waving me over, while getting more and more grumpy about it. So finally I consent, and head over to the lane. And of course, I get there right ahead of four other people, all who have three or less items. Now, in a normal situation, I'd just let them go ahead of me, but I had already put down my Wheaties Box on the conveyor, and it was a little stuck to some gum residue or something. And frankly, I haven't worked out in like forever, and I was too weak to get it up off the conveyor. Believe me, I tried.
Naturally, all these people behind me are staring death rays through the back of my head, and the store guy is not any happier, because I'm still trying to mess with the Wheaties, and I still have thirty-one (thirty-six?) items to unload. And I'm trying to figure out what my next move should be, when suddenly I feel a tap on my shoulder.
"Pardon me sir," I hear from behind me. I turn around, and it's the pharmacist. "Sir, you left your condoms on the counter." And of course, she says it in the loudest voice possible, and holds out the box so everyone can see that they are extra small.
What she doesn't say is that I was buying them for my uncle, who is too busy to get them himself (and believe me, I told her all about it when I bought them).
Some people. Sheesh.
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