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Happy Hodilaysh!!! by Ray Printer Friendly

Well, here we are, The Fourth Of July. I bet none of you are reading this, though, are you? You’re all out, having fun with your friends and families, drinking, eating cook-out hotdogs and burgers, blowing stuff up with fireworks, all that great stuff. Having yourself a good ole American time, celebrating our country’s independence.

I’ll be at work, selling people shit they don’t need and will never be able to understand. I’ll more than likely be cursing all holidays, cursing retail, and cursing the assholes at the corporate office, who all have a four-day weekend.

I was at Wal-Mart tonight, which always pisses me off, anyways, and I got behind this lady, I don’t know what the hell was wrong with her. It’s like she snorted some ant killer before she went out, or something. She’s at the self-checkout, trying to figure out how to scan the crap she’s got in her basket. She takes out a bottle of Pepto-Bismol, she rubs it all around on the little scan glass, nothing happens. I can see the UPC thing from where I’m standing—she’s got it pointed the wrong direction. I ask my princess what the hell is wrong with this woman, but she has no answer for me. The lady finally lucks out and manages to rub the bar code in the right spot,, and then she repeats this entire process with a pair of panties that say “Rebel” on them. For about half a second, my brain tries to play an evil trick on me and make me imagine this fat moron, in the panties, but it completely backfires, and my mind ends up running off into a dirty corner to throw up, while the rest of me stays safe. The lady takes about ten minutes to ring up her four items (the Pepto, the panties, a little shirt that had to be for someone else, and some weird rubber thing that I don’t even want to think about), and she finally moves on. I feel dumber for being in the same general location as her, and it takes the self-checkout computer a second to recover, I think, because it just sits there. I swear, when it was finally able to talk again, it stuttered a little, like when you’re trying to get back in sync with the world.

Have you ever been to the zoo, and you’re standing there with all of your friends, and beside you is some little boy and his sister and his mom and dad, and then the monkeys all start masturbating? And all of your goofy immature friends just die laughing, and you’re trying to get them to shut up, because you know that this little boy is about to start asking his parents all sorts of uncomfortable questions, but then when he speaks, he knocks your socks off, because as sick as you are, even you have your limits. And the kid goes, “Momma, that monkey’s doing like you ‘n Uncle Brad.” The look on the dad’s face at the zoo, that’s what the self-checkout computer would look like if it had a face: confused, amazed, violated, but not quite angry yet, because it hasn’t soaked in quite yet. And if you weren’t at the zoo that day, let me give you another analogy: Like if you were just standing there one day, on a really busy street, and somebody just walked by and stuck a finger up your butt. Just for a second, in and out, and you have no idea who in the crowd did it.

Anyways, the lady was an idiot, and I’m sure she’ll be at my job tomorrow, wondering if we sell TVs that will make people stop laughing at her. It would be awesome if I could be the salesman: “Yes, ma’am, we have this one right here. It only works in the bathtub, though. Plug it in, then hop in the tub, and I guarantee that you’ll never hear a peep of laughter again.”

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“You have thirty days to bring it back, and you’ll need the receipt.”

Anyways, before I got murderous, what was I talking about? Oh, yeah, good wholesome family fun.

Mad cow disease is making a comeback, hot dogs are made out of horrible things, and your family doesn’t like you. But have a good holiday, okay?


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