I just got back from the neighborhood Target (yet, French pronunciation is a must). Normally, as I wander through the halls of that place, I get bombarded with people in red shirts who, just like their Star Trek counterparts, are seeking to make an impact in their five seconds before they’re offed into oblivion. So every three steps its, “Can I help you find something?”
I figure this happens so often because I know exactly what I want and need no assistance in locating it. After all, I have been here before and the shelves are not migrating.
Be that as it may, today I went in and grabbed a bottle of Sobe’s Lifewater (the Strawberry Kiwi flavor) off the shelf. Apparently, the citrus flavor next to it had been overlooked many times already, and this was the final straw. Due to extremely low self-esteem, it leapt to its death and splattered all over the aisle.
Normally, I’m not much of a sentimental guy. But I figured this nice bottle of whatever needed a proper funeral. So I picked up the empty shell of its former life and set it aside, then went to find a redshirt to officiate over the funeral.
I walked up and down the entire hall, even into electronics. There were no redshirts around. They’re only there when you don’t need them.
So I finally said, “Enough of this. I’ve got what I came for.” And I went to the checkout line, where I told the woman at the register about the fate of one lonely bottle of citrus Sobe Lifewater. About ten seconds later, a second cashier came over to the first and said, “This lady just said there’s a mess in the juice aisle. I’m on the registers. What do we do?”
At least the woman at my checkout stand believed me. She even thanked me for informing her of the suicide, even though register workers cannot do anything about it.
I figured it was enough to blame gravity, and headed on my way. But of course, we all know the real culprit.
George W. Bush.
I still blame you.
