First things first. It's hot. Goddamn hot. I know everybody's feeling it. When we're averaging highs in the 90s, people stop being as sweet and compassionate as they are on the more mild days.
Yesterday I was in a SunFresh, purchasing a few necessities. And by necessities, I mean rum.
My friend and I had finished our shopping, and as we waited in line, this somewhat psychotic, middle-aged woman ahead of me starred at me like I was the second coming. For several minutes, I ignored the awkwardness, and finally whispered to my friend that this woman was staring at me. He confirmed that in fact she was staring at me quite intently. She said nothing. Just a deep, fucking creepy stare. The sort of stare that a serial killer gives you before tossing you in a hole, taking off his clothes, tucking his penis back, and singing dancing.
As the line progressed, purchases in hand, her stare never left me. Finally, I felt the need to speak out. I turned to the woman, who looked something like a cross between Kathy Bates and Reba McEntire, and very cheerfully said, "Hi there (crazy psychotic woman that may try to kill me)" She smiled, but didn't look away. "Is there something I can do for you?"
She became very embarrassed, and looked away. She kept mumbling something, but it wasn't exactly words. I looked at my friend. He was choking back a fit of laughter.
The woman grabbed my arm, not touched, grabbed, "I'm sorry. You..you look so much like my son."
I am now frightened. My friend had to walk about 20 feet away as he could no longer hold his laughter in.
"Oh. Well he must be really good looking!" I said, attempting to defend myself with humor.
"He was very good looking."
Yes... that's right... WAS. he WAS very good looking. This crazy woman in line is telling me that I look like her DEAD son. DEAD. No longer living. I am now, scared shitless. I am seconds away from shitting myself and running out the door.
I was dead quiet. How does one respond to that? Luckily she broke that silence. "He's dead." Oh...well there's no way I could have put that together. So naturally I tried to be a compassionate person to the psychotic woman. "I'm so sorry."
She tells me he died about a year ago. That I look just like him. And she continues staring at me. She looks like she is going to start crying at any moment. Then she asks me for a favor. Yes, the creepy, psychotic, serial killer woman, want's a favor. "I know this is going to sound strange, but when I leave, would you mind saying, 'Goodbye, Mom'? I never got to say goodbye to my son." Sweet Jesus... that's right. I am supposed to pretend to be the crazy woman's dead son.
I know I'm an asshole, but I am a softy inside. yes, it's crazy. yes it's insane. But how do you say no to that? I backed a few feet away from the woman as she checked out. My friend, still giggling like a farting baby, is telling me to do it. As we converse, the woman finished checking out, bags in hand, she turns and looks at me. Here eyes are shrink wrapped in tears, and she looks like a puppy begging to play.
I couldn't say no to that. "Bye, Mom!" I said it. I fucking said it. The woman got the biggest smile on her face that I've ever seen, turned, and almost skipped out of the SunFresh. I lowered my head in shame a bit. My friend, no longer needing to hold back his laughter, let's loose a string of guffaws. He can barely stand up.
We have two bottles of alcohol, we check out, and the checker gives us our total. $125.00.
"Excuse me? We have two bottles of rum. How the hell is that $125.00?"
The checker explains the situation of course. My mother had informed the checker that her son, me, would be purchasing her groceries.
And so I stand by my declaration, the heat makes people into horrible, horrible pieces of shit, that will do anything to serve themselves.
And that's it for today, my freaky darlings. For those of you that read the story up above and said "hey...isn't that an urban legend?" Fuck you, I was short on creativity today.
As always, love, peace, and good shopping for you all.
I remain,
-G
And here it is, your visual embolism...
