In which a poor, oppressed white boy risks life and limb in the belly of the Muslim retail beast.
I got some Cheerios and some Kellogg’s Honey Smacks, Crest Pro-Health, some rice cakes, light bulbs for my patio, toilet paper (it was on sale, four for $0.99), two gallons of WestSoy, some cranberry muffin mix, almond cookies, and some Sarah Lee multigrain bread. Oh…and a really cool blue case for my Samsung Galaxy phone ($1.99). And batteries for my home smoke alarm.
As I approached the cashier, his religious music unnerved me:
“Whoooah we’re half way there, whoah-OH, living on a prayer…”
He asked me…menacingly:
“Debit, or credit?”
I replied “Debit, please.”
He then looked at my Bank of America card and said:
“Holy shit dude…why do you have an afro on your bank ID?”
I could tell that he was going to reach for an RPG, or scream “Allahu Akbar, death to Israel” so I replied:
“Man…my family has fucked up hair. I rode my bike to the bank that day and the shit just exploded. It’s why I’m always wearing this dumb hat.”
“Eh…don’t feel bad. Check out my green card…I look like a werewolf.”
Fearing for my life, I then asked him:
“Hey man…do you still have that 2 for 1 deal on Marlboros?”
He then reached under the register, and gave me not one, but TWO packs of Marlboro menthols for $4.98.
That he had been saving for me. Because he wants to kill me twice as hard.
And then he told me to “say hi” to my girlfriend, and I said
“Alright, man…check ya later. Tell your brother I said wussup.”
Then I went home and ate a bowl of cereal.
I can’t believe I am alive to tell this tale. Let this be a lesson to all of you:
Toilet paper…FOUR FOR 99 CENTS!
Is it wrong that I thought of Spitting Image’s Grantham Anthem?
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