Thursday, July 2, 2015

Stroke, stroke, stroke the free-range banana.


I am at Whole Foods when the young woman in line in front of me has her card declined for her various organic and free-range goods. She is embarrassed, and offers another card: Declined.

The line behind us gets restless, because Whole Foods shoppers don't have any patience for people who can't afford to shop there; me, I am just buying Tic-Tacs to get a forty from my debit card. Orange Tic-Tacs: Whole  Foods Shoppers hate those, too, for whatever reason.

As I said, the line is getting restless and bitchy, and I recognize the girl as a Barista at my Starbucks, so I offer to pay for the young woman's various organic and free-range goods in exchange for a consensual blow-job.

She looks at me, looks at her groceries, pauses, then shakes my hand, smiles, and says "Done."

Now the female cashier is restless and bitchy. Also: not smiling.

"That's not right," she says.

"I think we solved the dilemma," I say, then open my orange Tic-Tacs before I have actually paid for them: the cashier is now officially Outraged.

"That is SEXIST," she growls, in that way that makes the nose-ring that pierces both her nostrils vibrate. Her chubby goth thighs may be vibrating, too: I choose not to look.

"Actually, I think this is Economics," the young woman says, gently stroking the free-range organic banana in front of her. Stroke, stroke, stroke the free-range banana.

So, anyway: she got her groceries and then gave me a blow-job in her Prius.

So, to her parents, I say: Thank you for raising her right.


I am Laslo.

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