So there I am. I've had breakfast, a nice shower, am out the door in ample time to get to work. I'm jamming a little Rusted Root to keep myself going. And then I made the big mistake: I stopped to get some snacks. I walked into the gas station and was calmly browsing the candy aisle when a small man wearing a three piece suit came running in with an Eddie Bauer bag on his head. He had holes cut out for the eyes. I looked at him for a while in complete disbelief. Who would've thought such a man would be a complete thug? He screamed, "I WANT ALL YOUR CARTONS OF MARLBORO LIGHTS AND GAS ON PUMP EIGHT!" But it wasn't a scream so much as a squeak. He sounded pretty scared. I don't think it was in his nature, really. Armed robbery, I mean. But what with gas prices being so high, I can see him being driven out of his mind. War does funny things to men.
So the cashier reaches under the counter and starts digging out all the cartons of Marlboro Lights. He's still waving his bulging jacket pocket wildly. You could see the terror in his dilated pupils from behind the Eddie Bauer bag. And I think the cashier must have been out of HER mind with fear, because she asked, "Paper or plastic, sir?" He screamed, "I DON'T FRIGGIN' CARE! JUST GET 'EM IN SOMETHING!" I said, "What about the Eddie Bauer bag on your head? That would probably work, dude. It's pretty big." He whirled on me, still waving his pocket. "What would you know about it? Just be quiet." I arched an eyebrow. He kept looking at me.
Then the strangest thing happened... His pocket started to ring. I looked from him to his pocket back to him back to the pocket. And it kept ringing. His eyes assumed a radiant panic. He turned toward a Frito Lay display, slid the phone out of his pocket, slipped it under the Eddie Bauer bag and whispered, "Hello?" It must have been his wife, because he then said, "Yes, honey, I'm putting gas in the Explorer. No, don't worry about it. I've got it under control. Yes, I'm getting cigarettes, too. We're going to be fine. Nothing to worry about. Tell the kids I love 'em." Now, I'm just a simple girl at heart. And after a display like that, how could I not feel enraged? Here he was, an "ordinary" man who drove a Ford Explorer, smoked Marlboro Lights and shopped at Eddie Bauer, robbing the gas station I'm trying to buy candy at, making me LATE for work by waving a CELL PHONE around? I mean, I can take a lot, but puh-leeze, enough is enough. So I began to creep slowly toward the Slim Jims. He did not see me. He did not hear me. I was stealthy as the wild boar-cat. So just as he turned to go, I leapt into the face of danger yelling, "SNAP INTO A SLIM JIM!" After a desperate and lengthy struggle, I was mortally wounded by radiation from his cell phone, but he was rendered unconscious by a severe beating with beef substance.
The cashier came stumbling over, cartons of cigarettes still in hand. She dropped them on the floor and rushed to me. My prone body began to blister, peel and ooze from the intense radiation. I croaked, "Go now... Save yourself... But please... One favor for the dying.. Call my place of employment.. Tell them I'm going to be a little late.." She nodded dumbly, horrified at the mucousy excretion of my boils. She ran from the building as I slumped back against the snacky donut display, attempting to keep my internal organs in place.
The cops got there eventually. I don't know what ended up happening to that guy. They probably just let him go. They took me to the hospital, but apparently my health insurance doesn't cover radiation exposure, so they just sent me away. I hitch-hiked back to the gas station, flesh sliding from my very bones. My work clothes were absolutely RUINED, dahling. It was a nightmare. But I did make it in. I explained the situation and they were kind enough to let me take a sick day. Nice of them, really. It only being my second day and all. But I maintain that my ghoulish countenance was what convinced them in the end.
And that's about it. Just your average day, I suppose. Other than that, not much happened.