(no subject)
There's no need to post. That's why I'm doing it.
Nothing to report, nothing to talk about, although I'll admit, much to talk about, little of note or worthy of livejournal. I can't depressedly rant to you, and if you played a guitar badly behind this post, an emo song would not result. Perhaps this is an interesting twist, as it's my theory that Dashboard Confessional makes music through singing what is posted here, and Simple Plan picks up the dregs not yet stolen by Dashboard. Would anyone really confess to a dashboard? Honestly, if I was a higher power, and somebody tried to save their eternal soul using a ****ing dashboard, I'd ram their car into the closest tree, and if there were no nearby tree, I'd make one just to rid the world of a boring emo kid. Besides, trees create oxygen. What do emo kids create? Carbon dioxide? I guess plants use that to create oxygen, but if it's going to come from an emo kid, I'd rather asphyxiate.
Are you throwing tartar sauce into a staple gun? I don't know anything about Jewish pies. GET AWAY FROM MY NECTARINE!!! Venting anger always helps you CONTROL YOUR ANGRY IMPULSES!!!!! Typing in all caps HELPS ME TO CONTROL MY RAGING IMPULSES. Oh to power a city with all caps. My brother would be the reactor core. Get out of my tailgate, oh sobbing rabbit. What exactly is a tailgate? Everytime I hear that word I think of a bear's asshole. So does that mean being tailgated means being fornicated by a bear? JOIN MY LEGION OF ETERNAL SUFFERING!!!! It has a great dental plan, and we give stock options. I use stock options as toilet paper. Tickles the bum a little on the inside, but it really pays off once it goes far enough up (ba dum bum chi...). (*burst of insight!!!) And out of my head comes another...something. Heh - it's another play:
Melon
Me: I'd like to buy this melon.
Storeowner: That'll be 4.99.
Me: OK. Excellent.
Storeowner: Have a fantastic day…actually...wait just a moment…
Me: What is it?
Storeowner: Would you like an extended warranty on that?
Me: Extended warranty?
Storeowner: Yes, exactly like I said.
Me: Why wouldI need extended warranty? It's a melon! I'm planning on eating it!
Storeowner: Well, what if it gets damaged?
Me: Of course it's going to get damaged! I'm tearing into it with my teeth! You can't get much more damaging than that!
Storeowner: Well, what if something happens to it, and it stops working? Then you’ll wish you had it extended. We can’t cover you, you know, unless you pay us a little something extra.
Me: Alright then, how much is it?
Storeowner: 10.99.
Me: That’s more than the price of the bloody melon!!!!!
Storeowner: Ah - but we’re providing more than just a melon here. We’re giving you piece of mind!
Me: Look, I don’t really have much of a need for…
Storeowner: Come on, it’s only 10.99 - you can hear it calling to you (holding slip of paper up to mouth) “John…John - take me home…John John”
Me: My name isn’t John! It’s…
Storeowner: Oh, I know your name. And…I also know you want an extended warranty!
Me: Can you please just pay attention. I want NOTHING but the melon.
Storeowner: 10.99…you don’t want it to get damaged…
Me: I DON’T CARE IF THE BLOODY MELON GETS DAMAGED!!!!! IT’S A SPOT OF FOOD!!! I AM SHOVING IT DOWN MY THROAT AND DIGESTING IT!!! THE THING IS A BUNDLE OF CHEMICALS FOR MY STOMACH ACIDS TO BREAK DOWN!!! THE DAMN THING WILL BE GONE IN 10 MINUTES WHEN I SHRED IT TO PIECES WITH MY LITTLE BITERS!! THERE IS NO BLOODY NEED FOR A FUCKING WARRANTY!!!
Storeowner: Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you. You have NO idea how many customers come back here crying to me because their melon stopped working.
Me: Stopped working? What was it supposed to be doing? It’s a melon! It just sits there until I eat it! Hell, I wouldn’t want to buy it if the melon was “working” in the first place!!!
Storeowner: Well, clearly you don’t know much about melons.
Me: What is there to know about melons? They’re pieces of fruit!
Storeowner: Well, I‘ve got a degree in melonology, and any one of my university professors would tell you otherwise.
Me: MELONOLGY???? Nothing of the sort even exists!
Storeowner: Look - I have the degree right here!
Me: Where?
Storeowner: (starts writing vigourously on a grocery bag) um…right…here…
Me: You’re just writing on a grocery bag! That doesn’t mean anything.
Storeowner: Would a degree from…(writes on bag more)…Harvard University lie to you?
Me: It isn’t the degere that’s lying! It doesn’t matter what you write there - I don’t care if that thing has the name of 40 nobel prize winning melonologists or whatever you call them, it’s STILL JUST WRITING ON A GROCERY BAG!!!!!
Storeowner: Well…there was a papaya shortage when I graduated.
Me: Oh, OF COURSE!!! Well, that just explains EVERYTHING. You’ve convinced me, I’m buying the extended warranty. As a matter of fact, I’ll take two.
Storeowner: Now you’re just being mean. Do you want me to call in the guards?
Me: THERE’S NOTHING MEAN ABOUT THIS IN THE SLIGHTEST!!! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO WON’T GIVE ME MY MELON!!! I’M SIMPLY STATING FACTS HERE!!!
Storeowner: Well, you could state it a little nicer.
Me: I DON’T WANT TO STATE IT NICELY!!! I WANT TO TAKE MY MELON, AND I WANT TO GO HOME AND EAT IT!!!
Storeowner: Well, how would you like it if I stated some facts about you?
Me: (sighs) I don’t CARE!!!! You know, I don’t see any reason why I should ever come back to this grocery store.
Storeowner: Lets see, you have a scruffy beard, I don’t like your hat…
Me: I’m not even wearing a hat!
Storeowner: That’s exactly what I don’t like about it. You have no real wooden clogs, and your ability to play the Timpani simulatneously while yodelling and juggling the Swiss Alps is simply abysmal.
Me: No one on Earth has that ability!
Storeowner: Of course not! If no one on Earth had that ability, then how is it that I do it?
Me: You DON’T do it! It’s impossible.
Storeowner: No it isn’t.
Me: Alright then, show it to me.
(nothing happens - storeowner stares blankly at Me)
Me: I’m waiting.
(Storeowner looks shocked to see Me)
Storeowner: Hello there, who are you?
Me: I’VE BEEN HERE THE ENTIRE TIME!!!
Storeowner: No you haven’t. If you’d been here the entire time, I’m certain I’d recall it. After all, you are heh heh…a rather distinctive looking individual.
Me: What’s that supposed to mean?
Storeowner: Well, I don’t mean to be rude…but…oh never mind.
Me: Well, spit it out!
Storeowner: Spit what out?
Me: You’re just stalling for time! If you’re going to play the Timpani simulatneously while yodelling and juggling the Swiss Alps, then do it.
Storeowner: Oh, all right then.
Me: I’m waiting.
Storeowner: For what? I just did it!
Me: You didn’t even move!
Storeowner: Well, if you’re not focused enough to pay attention, I can’t be bothered dealing with you. Goodbye now.
Me: Aren’t you going to give me my melon? Which I so happened to PAY for?
Storeowner: Ah, back to the melon then, are you? You certainly do have little variety in your conversation.
Me: I’m not holding a conversation!!!!!! I’m trying to buy my groceries, and you won’t give me my melon!!
Storeowner: Tsk tsk. Complaining will get you nowhere in life. My mother did always tell me “Bob, if you complain, you may one day find yourself with an angry stampede of Cambodian child soldiers in your bedroom.” Of course, I always did wonder why my mother called my Bob, considering that isn’t my name.
Me: Well, what is your name then?
Storeowner: She never gave me one. A name is most certainly an unneccessary thing, I’ve always thought. After all, what am I going to do with it? Say my name really was Bob, then what? People could ask me “Who are you?” To which I’d reply “I’m Bob.” And what precisely would they know about me? Only that a woman who’s probably dead at this point decided to call out the word “Bob” seconds after pushing me out of her stomach. Now, perhaps that would help in getting to know my mother, but how precisely would that help them to know me?
Me: Well, it certainly makes things less confusing.
Storeowner: What on earth are you saying? In the town I grew up at, everyone was named Bob.
Me: Sounds awfully inconvenient to me.
Storeowner: Not really. Say I wanted to call someone, but I didn’t know exactly who the person was. All I’d have to do is shout out Bob, and I could guarantee the person I wanted would come running. (pauses for a very long time, as if to go on, but never does, just leaves his mouth open as if he is going to speak the entire time)
Me: Well…but…
Storeowner: Now, who was it that taught you to interrupt? My mother always taught me to do nothing like it. She did have quite a number of lessons of that sort, you know. Not quite so many as my father. I would have to say the most important was “Never staple your hands to a moving train.” I never did follow his advice. Neither did the train.
Me: You realize of course that a train is an inanimate object? They can’t speak to you or answer.
Storeowner: Of course they can speak and answer! You only say they can’t because none of them ever have.
Me: So, by process of elimination, wouldn’t you say that since no train has ever spoken in the past, that no train has the ability to speak?
Storeowner: Don’t be such a televangelist. Besides, I have a degree in melonology, anything I say is more important.
Me: You don’t have a degree in anything! You have a bit of marker on a paper bag!
Storeowner: Which is one marker and one paper bag more than you have. Look, I even have honours! (scribbles on paper).
Me: That doesn’t mean a thing! It’s a bunch of writing on a bag! Besides, you spelled honours wrong!
Storeowner: I did? I mean…
Me: AHA!
Storeowner: Those bastards! The quality of our university really has gone downhill in the last few years, don’t you think?
Me: Anyways, it doesn’t matter what you write on that piece of paper, trains don’t have the ability to verbally communicate with humans!
Storeowner: All those big words, so little substance. Besides, try telling that to my 196th wife - she spent 8 years of her life chasing down a train, simply to tell it all the mysteries of life.
Me: And what are the mysteries of life?
Storeowner: Would you like a nice hood ornament with that melon?
Me: ANSWER MY QUESTION!
Storeowner: How thick is your skull? How many times do I have to tell you the answer to that? Don’t threaten me again, I have security standing by.
Me: Alright then, refresh my memory.
Storeowner: (ignores entirely) She didn’t know the meaning of life, of course. She ran beside that train for those 8 years, hoping it would spontaneously appear in her brain at some point, and enable her to pass the knowledge on to the moving train, who so desperately wanted to know the answer.
Me: If the train never spoke, how on earth do you know it wanted to know the meaning of life?
Storeowner: There’s more to communication than simply speaking, you know. Haven’t you ever heard of hand gestures? ESP? When you were a child, didn’t you ever play games of “pass the neurotransmitting synapse?”
(Me shakes head)
Storeowner: Well, there’s just no dealing with you then. You’ve clearly missed the point of everything I’ve been saying to you this entire time. Would you like air conditioning installed? It’s free of charge…after you donate 5.99 to my store, that is.
Me: What sort of a train has hands to signal with? For that matter, what sort of an inanimate object has hands at all?
Storeowner: (suddenly talking incredibly fast) Haven’t you ever heard of a clock? A watch? A timepiece? A chronograph? Those nifty little devices used for holding your book while you immerse yourself in breakfast cereal or watch television or take cyanide pills or whatever it is you like to do in your spare time? They’re all the rage in the West Indies 30 years from now, you know.
Me: So…not only do you know the meaning of life, but you can see the future too?
Storeowner: Don’t be a smartass. Until you’ve been to the West Indies 30 years from now, you don’t have the right to an opinion on the subject.
Me: (tries to speak)
Storeowner: I’M A MELONOLOGIST!!!!! And you’re making me incredibly angry right now.
Me: You could try aromatherapy, or perhaps a nice little trip to the spa and a manicure.
Storeowner: Don’t be flippant, I only make hamburgers on Wednesday.
Me: It’s Wednesday now.
Storeowner: No it isn’t, it was Wednesday 7 days ago.
Me For all of your knowledge of timekeeping devices, I’d think you would have understood the calendar system.
Storeowner: What on earth is a calendar? If you expect me to serve you, stick to a language both of us know and understand. Here, lets speak a language of my own invention, I’m quite fluent in that.
Me: I’d…really…prefer English.
Storeowner: I call this language Silence. I invented it, but it hasn’t been spoken in North America since before the invention of cable broadcasting.
Me: Is this a metaphor?
Storeowner: That’s not a very nice thing to say. How would you like it if I called you a metaphor? After all, you wouldn’t like to disappear from existence once someone didn’t understand you. And, to be quite frank, from what I’ve heard about your wife, I doubt you would last a particularly long time.
Me: I haven’t told you anything about my wife!
Storeowner: But from the looks of you, I’m certain your wife doesn’t know very much about theoretical physics.
Me: Does anyone really? I mean, we’re barely coming to…
Storeowner: Don’t be philosophical. If there’s anything I hate in this world, it’s when people are philosophical. You know, I think that if there is a God, he too would dislike philosophy. If I were God, my first motion would be to smite all those who engage in philosophy with a plague of rolling melons. Of course, I would have to wipe myself out too - after all - what sort of an Almighty creator would I be if I didn't think deep thoughts? Besides, I’m a professional philosopher.
Me: Aren’t you a professional melonologist?
Storeowner: Melonology is a subcategory of philosophy, of course. That’s quite a common misconception and…
Me: That doesn’t make any sense! Melons are simple, easily understood objects!
Storeowner: Now you’re just being illogical. All the other philosophers spend their time thinking deep thoughts about God, and we haven’t even the slightest bit of evidence that anything of the sort even exists. At least I KNOW the melon is there, so why not think deep thoughts about it instead? When science disproves the existence of a God, all of the regular philosphers will be out of a job, but I highly doubt that sciecne will ever disprove the existence of melons.
Me: Well, melons are tangible objects.
Storeowner: But if we disproved their existence, I’m certain they would vanish. Here, watch this: That melon does not exist. (nothing happens)
Me: The melon is still there.
Storeowner: I made a calculation error.
Me: A calculation error? All you did was say the melon doesn’t exist!
Storeowner: Would you like your melon rustproofed? It’s only an extra 2.99.
Me: I DON’T WANT ANYTHING DONE TO MY MELON!!!! I just want a simple melon, free of charge, nothing else added to it.
Storeowner: Oh, so NOW you want to buy a melon.
Me: That’s what I’ve wanted right from the beginning!
Storeowner: If you can’t stop changing your mind, I’ll have to buy you a new one. Don’t drive me to that, my credit rating is too low.
Me: Can…
Storeowner: Of course, of course, you want central vac installed on your melon. Quite a useful feature.
Me: I…
Storeowner: Are you going to turn into a telephone before my eyes again? I do grow tired of such things. I would like at least once to have a customer who can buy something from me without turning into some sort of eccentric object like a train or boat or sewage plant. Last time I dealt with a sewage plant it took me 6 weeks to clean it out of my shop, and that was AFTER I hired a contractor.
Me: You know, I get the idea that you’re simply trying to keep me in the store for something.
Storeowner: Well, where else would you go?
Me: Home to eat my melon, perhaps?
Storeowner: And why would you want to do something like that?
Me: Well, I happen to enjoy melons, and since awakening this morning, I’ve had a distinctive craving for one.
Storeowner: Perhaps get yourself a pregnancy test. I have one in the back. Or just use this melon for that purpose.
Me: It’s interesting how you manage to connect everything back to this melon.
Storeowner: Well, there’s so many subtle nuances and details that you just don’t understand about it. I don’t quite get why you would want to eat something so beautiful and complex!
Me: Well, mainly because I’m hungry, and this melon provides me an outlet for that hunger.
Storeowner: But doesn’t it.
Me: But doesn’t it what?
Storeowner: That’s for YOU to decide.
Me: That wasn’t a statement!
Storeowner: It can be whatever statement you want it to be.
Me: No, no it can’t, and to tell you the honest truth, I don’t want to hear anything about melons, ever ever again in my entire life!
Storeowner: Then you don’t want to eat it?
Me: YES I WANT TO EAT IT!! As a matter of fact, I don’t even crave a melon anymore, at this point I mostly just want to spite you.
Storeowner: Well, that’s not very nice of you. You know, that’s a sign of stupidity. I always say…cruelty is simply misguided kindness, misguided kindness is simply stupidity, and stupidity is simply misguided intelligence, therefore no man is really ever mean or stupid, but every man is very much so lost, whether or not you’re mean or stupid, simply because home is where you hang your hat, and you don’t have a hat, so the analogy doesn’t apply to you. You know, if my barcode scanner were here right now, it would have a thing or two to say to you!
Me: It is. It’s right there. And it has nothing to say to me.
Storeowner: On the contrary, it has plenty to say to you. It simply doesn’t, because it has no vocal cords. I would lend it mine, but it’s intelligence would cause your brain to short circuit and explode, and I didn’t bring my mop to work today.
Me: I’ve had enough of this. (pulls a carving knife out of pocket)
Storeowner: Define “this.” Not a particularly useful word, as it could describe any number of objects.
(Me suddenly gets psychotic glint in his eye)
Me: I’m going now. Goodbye.
Storeowner: Wait…do you have a licence for that melon?
Me: Of course I don’t! There’s no skill involved in using the thing! All you do with a melon is eat it!
Storeowner: Are you even over 19?
Me: It doesn’t matter, and yes…
Storeowner: I’d like to see some ID. If you don’t I swear I’ll call security on you…
Me: There’s no rule anywhere that I have to be over 19 to buy a melon!
Storeowner: There is in my store. I have moral standards to uphold, you know.
Me: I don’t…
Storeowner: That’s the problem with the world these days, not enough traditional family values anymore. That’s exactly why I joined the World Wrestling Federation. Not much else for a girl to do in such a twisted world, but pretend to fight much larger men.
Me: You’re not even a girl!
Storeowner: There’s a special on Vagisil, aisle 1, does that answer your question?
Me: No, you’re just spouting jibberish, and I want my melon, and I want to go.
Storeowner: Does your mother know how you turned out?
Me: GIVE ME THAT!!!
Storeowner: Security!
Me: T…
(security enters the room)
Security: Do we have a problem here?
Storeowner: W…
Me: Yes! This man here seems to be robbing the store!
Storeowner: That…
Me: Don't mind anything he says - he's a little bit paranoid schizophrenic - he thinks he owns the shop. how is that possible, it's my family business?
Storeowner: I AM T…
Me: Don’t listen to anything he says - he’s been talking jibberish since he got here…probably escaped from the psyche ward or Betty Ford or anything of that sort...
Security: OK. We’re right on it. (speaks into walkie talkie) - niner niner, we have a three ten semicolon dash edible pamphlet sucking dirigible chew away my cancerous wart salad under the umbrella tree…
Storeowner: I DO OWN THIS S…
Me: Somebody gag him, please.
Security: Right on it. (puts duct tape over owner’s mouth)
Storeowner: …..! …….!!!!! …………………!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Security: Let us know if you need anything.
Me: Gotcha. Actually, (Hell, why not), I’ll give you a raise, just for the excellent job you did here.
Security: Really? Another one? Well…thanks sir!
Security: Glad to be of service. (salutes, leaves with storeowner, frolics near the end, singing “1893 dollars an hour” over and over again)
(Me walks behind counter)
Me: Not a bad counter, sturdy, yet rustic and fruity. Wouldn’t mind bearing my children on it, if only it had a little more confidence. Perhaps a good chili dog would do the trick, or if I fed it industrial waste. Always works when I don’t have anything to write.
(man walks up to the counter)
Man: I'd like to buy this melon.
Me: That'll be 4.99.
Man: OK. Excellent.
Me: Have a nice day…actually...wait just a moment…
Man: What is it?
Me: Would you like an extended warranty on that?
Nothing to report, nothing to talk about, although I'll admit, much to talk about, little of note or worthy of livejournal. I can't depressedly rant to you, and if you played a guitar badly behind this post, an emo song would not result. Perhaps this is an interesting twist, as it's my theory that Dashboard Confessional makes music through singing what is posted here, and Simple Plan picks up the dregs not yet stolen by Dashboard. Would anyone really confess to a dashboard? Honestly, if I was a higher power, and somebody tried to save their eternal soul using a ****ing dashboard, I'd ram their car into the closest tree, and if there were no nearby tree, I'd make one just to rid the world of a boring emo kid. Besides, trees create oxygen. What do emo kids create? Carbon dioxide? I guess plants use that to create oxygen, but if it's going to come from an emo kid, I'd rather asphyxiate.
Are you throwing tartar sauce into a staple gun? I don't know anything about Jewish pies. GET AWAY FROM MY NECTARINE!!! Venting anger always helps you CONTROL YOUR ANGRY IMPULSES!!!!! Typing in all caps HELPS ME TO CONTROL MY RAGING IMPULSES. Oh to power a city with all caps. My brother would be the reactor core. Get out of my tailgate, oh sobbing rabbit. What exactly is a tailgate? Everytime I hear that word I think of a bear's asshole. So does that mean being tailgated means being fornicated by a bear? JOIN MY LEGION OF ETERNAL SUFFERING!!!! It has a great dental plan, and we give stock options. I use stock options as toilet paper. Tickles the bum a little on the inside, but it really pays off once it goes far enough up (ba dum bum chi...). (*burst of insight!!!) And out of my head comes another...something. Heh - it's another play:
Melon
Me: I'd like to buy this melon.
Storeowner: That'll be 4.99.
Me: OK. Excellent.
Storeowner: Have a fantastic day…actually...wait just a moment…
Me: What is it?
Storeowner: Would you like an extended warranty on that?
Me: Extended warranty?
Storeowner: Yes, exactly like I said.
Me: Why wouldI need extended warranty? It's a melon! I'm planning on eating it!
Storeowner: Well, what if it gets damaged?
Me: Of course it's going to get damaged! I'm tearing into it with my teeth! You can't get much more damaging than that!
Storeowner: Well, what if something happens to it, and it stops working? Then you’ll wish you had it extended. We can’t cover you, you know, unless you pay us a little something extra.
Me: Alright then, how much is it?
Storeowner: 10.99.
Me: That’s more than the price of the bloody melon!!!!!
Storeowner: Ah - but we’re providing more than just a melon here. We’re giving you piece of mind!
Me: Look, I don’t really have much of a need for…
Storeowner: Come on, it’s only 10.99 - you can hear it calling to you (holding slip of paper up to mouth) “John…John - take me home…John John”
Me: My name isn’t John! It’s…
Storeowner: Oh, I know your name. And…I also know you want an extended warranty!
Me: Can you please just pay attention. I want NOTHING but the melon.
Storeowner: 10.99…you don’t want it to get damaged…
Me: I DON’T CARE IF THE BLOODY MELON GETS DAMAGED!!!!! IT’S A SPOT OF FOOD!!! I AM SHOVING IT DOWN MY THROAT AND DIGESTING IT!!! THE THING IS A BUNDLE OF CHEMICALS FOR MY STOMACH ACIDS TO BREAK DOWN!!! THE DAMN THING WILL BE GONE IN 10 MINUTES WHEN I SHRED IT TO PIECES WITH MY LITTLE BITERS!! THERE IS NO BLOODY NEED FOR A FUCKING WARRANTY!!!
Storeowner: Well, don’t say we didn’t warn you. You have NO idea how many customers come back here crying to me because their melon stopped working.
Me: Stopped working? What was it supposed to be doing? It’s a melon! It just sits there until I eat it! Hell, I wouldn’t want to buy it if the melon was “working” in the first place!!!
Storeowner: Well, clearly you don’t know much about melons.
Me: What is there to know about melons? They’re pieces of fruit!
Storeowner: Well, I‘ve got a degree in melonology, and any one of my university professors would tell you otherwise.
Me: MELONOLGY???? Nothing of the sort even exists!
Storeowner: Look - I have the degree right here!
Me: Where?
Storeowner: (starts writing vigourously on a grocery bag) um…right…here…
Me: You’re just writing on a grocery bag! That doesn’t mean anything.
Storeowner: Would a degree from…(writes on bag more)…Harvard University lie to you?
Me: It isn’t the degere that’s lying! It doesn’t matter what you write there - I don’t care if that thing has the name of 40 nobel prize winning melonologists or whatever you call them, it’s STILL JUST WRITING ON A GROCERY BAG!!!!!
Storeowner: Well…there was a papaya shortage when I graduated.
Me: Oh, OF COURSE!!! Well, that just explains EVERYTHING. You’ve convinced me, I’m buying the extended warranty. As a matter of fact, I’ll take two.
Storeowner: Now you’re just being mean. Do you want me to call in the guards?
Me: THERE’S NOTHING MEAN ABOUT THIS IN THE SLIGHTEST!!! YOU’RE THE ONE WHO WON’T GIVE ME MY MELON!!! I’M SIMPLY STATING FACTS HERE!!!
Storeowner: Well, you could state it a little nicer.
Me: I DON’T WANT TO STATE IT NICELY!!! I WANT TO TAKE MY MELON, AND I WANT TO GO HOME AND EAT IT!!!
Storeowner: Well, how would you like it if I stated some facts about you?
Me: (sighs) I don’t CARE!!!! You know, I don’t see any reason why I should ever come back to this grocery store.
Storeowner: Lets see, you have a scruffy beard, I don’t like your hat…
Me: I’m not even wearing a hat!
Storeowner: That’s exactly what I don’t like about it. You have no real wooden clogs, and your ability to play the Timpani simulatneously while yodelling and juggling the Swiss Alps is simply abysmal.
Me: No one on Earth has that ability!
Storeowner: Of course not! If no one on Earth had that ability, then how is it that I do it?
Me: You DON’T do it! It’s impossible.
Storeowner: No it isn’t.
Me: Alright then, show it to me.
(nothing happens - storeowner stares blankly at Me)
Me: I’m waiting.
(Storeowner looks shocked to see Me)
Storeowner: Hello there, who are you?
Me: I’VE BEEN HERE THE ENTIRE TIME!!!
Storeowner: No you haven’t. If you’d been here the entire time, I’m certain I’d recall it. After all, you are heh heh…a rather distinctive looking individual.
Me: What’s that supposed to mean?
Storeowner: Well, I don’t mean to be rude…but…oh never mind.
Me: Well, spit it out!
Storeowner: Spit what out?
Me: You’re just stalling for time! If you’re going to play the Timpani simulatneously while yodelling and juggling the Swiss Alps, then do it.
Storeowner: Oh, all right then.
Me: I’m waiting.
Storeowner: For what? I just did it!
Me: You didn’t even move!
Storeowner: Well, if you’re not focused enough to pay attention, I can’t be bothered dealing with you. Goodbye now.
Me: Aren’t you going to give me my melon? Which I so happened to PAY for?
Storeowner: Ah, back to the melon then, are you? You certainly do have little variety in your conversation.
Me: I’m not holding a conversation!!!!!! I’m trying to buy my groceries, and you won’t give me my melon!!
Storeowner: Tsk tsk. Complaining will get you nowhere in life. My mother did always tell me “Bob, if you complain, you may one day find yourself with an angry stampede of Cambodian child soldiers in your bedroom.” Of course, I always did wonder why my mother called my Bob, considering that isn’t my name.
Me: Well, what is your name then?
Storeowner: She never gave me one. A name is most certainly an unneccessary thing, I’ve always thought. After all, what am I going to do with it? Say my name really was Bob, then what? People could ask me “Who are you?” To which I’d reply “I’m Bob.” And what precisely would they know about me? Only that a woman who’s probably dead at this point decided to call out the word “Bob” seconds after pushing me out of her stomach. Now, perhaps that would help in getting to know my mother, but how precisely would that help them to know me?
Me: Well, it certainly makes things less confusing.
Storeowner: What on earth are you saying? In the town I grew up at, everyone was named Bob.
Me: Sounds awfully inconvenient to me.
Storeowner: Not really. Say I wanted to call someone, but I didn’t know exactly who the person was. All I’d have to do is shout out Bob, and I could guarantee the person I wanted would come running. (pauses for a very long time, as if to go on, but never does, just leaves his mouth open as if he is going to speak the entire time)
Me: Well…but…
Storeowner: Now, who was it that taught you to interrupt? My mother always taught me to do nothing like it. She did have quite a number of lessons of that sort, you know. Not quite so many as my father. I would have to say the most important was “Never staple your hands to a moving train.” I never did follow his advice. Neither did the train.
Me: You realize of course that a train is an inanimate object? They can’t speak to you or answer.
Storeowner: Of course they can speak and answer! You only say they can’t because none of them ever have.
Me: So, by process of elimination, wouldn’t you say that since no train has ever spoken in the past, that no train has the ability to speak?
Storeowner: Don’t be such a televangelist. Besides, I have a degree in melonology, anything I say is more important.
Me: You don’t have a degree in anything! You have a bit of marker on a paper bag!
Storeowner: Which is one marker and one paper bag more than you have. Look, I even have honours! (scribbles on paper).
Me: That doesn’t mean a thing! It’s a bunch of writing on a bag! Besides, you spelled honours wrong!
Storeowner: I did? I mean…
Me: AHA!
Storeowner: Those bastards! The quality of our university really has gone downhill in the last few years, don’t you think?
Me: Anyways, it doesn’t matter what you write on that piece of paper, trains don’t have the ability to verbally communicate with humans!
Storeowner: All those big words, so little substance. Besides, try telling that to my 196th wife - she spent 8 years of her life chasing down a train, simply to tell it all the mysteries of life.
Me: And what are the mysteries of life?
Storeowner: Would you like a nice hood ornament with that melon?
Me: ANSWER MY QUESTION!
Storeowner: How thick is your skull? How many times do I have to tell you the answer to that? Don’t threaten me again, I have security standing by.
Me: Alright then, refresh my memory.
Storeowner: (ignores entirely) She didn’t know the meaning of life, of course. She ran beside that train for those 8 years, hoping it would spontaneously appear in her brain at some point, and enable her to pass the knowledge on to the moving train, who so desperately wanted to know the answer.
Me: If the train never spoke, how on earth do you know it wanted to know the meaning of life?
Storeowner: There’s more to communication than simply speaking, you know. Haven’t you ever heard of hand gestures? ESP? When you were a child, didn’t you ever play games of “pass the neurotransmitting synapse?”
(Me shakes head)
Storeowner: Well, there’s just no dealing with you then. You’ve clearly missed the point of everything I’ve been saying to you this entire time. Would you like air conditioning installed? It’s free of charge…after you donate 5.99 to my store, that is.
Me: What sort of a train has hands to signal with? For that matter, what sort of an inanimate object has hands at all?
Storeowner: (suddenly talking incredibly fast) Haven’t you ever heard of a clock? A watch? A timepiece? A chronograph? Those nifty little devices used for holding your book while you immerse yourself in breakfast cereal or watch television or take cyanide pills or whatever it is you like to do in your spare time? They’re all the rage in the West Indies 30 years from now, you know.
Me: So…not only do you know the meaning of life, but you can see the future too?
Storeowner: Don’t be a smartass. Until you’ve been to the West Indies 30 years from now, you don’t have the right to an opinion on the subject.
Me: (tries to speak)
Storeowner: I’M A MELONOLOGIST!!!!! And you’re making me incredibly angry right now.
Me: You could try aromatherapy, or perhaps a nice little trip to the spa and a manicure.
Storeowner: Don’t be flippant, I only make hamburgers on Wednesday.
Me: It’s Wednesday now.
Storeowner: No it isn’t, it was Wednesday 7 days ago.
Me For all of your knowledge of timekeeping devices, I’d think you would have understood the calendar system.
Storeowner: What on earth is a calendar? If you expect me to serve you, stick to a language both of us know and understand. Here, lets speak a language of my own invention, I’m quite fluent in that.
Me: I’d…really…prefer English.
Storeowner: I call this language Silence. I invented it, but it hasn’t been spoken in North America since before the invention of cable broadcasting.
Me: Is this a metaphor?
Storeowner: That’s not a very nice thing to say. How would you like it if I called you a metaphor? After all, you wouldn’t like to disappear from existence once someone didn’t understand you. And, to be quite frank, from what I’ve heard about your wife, I doubt you would last a particularly long time.
Me: I haven’t told you anything about my wife!
Storeowner: But from the looks of you, I’m certain your wife doesn’t know very much about theoretical physics.
Me: Does anyone really? I mean, we’re barely coming to…
Storeowner: Don’t be philosophical. If there’s anything I hate in this world, it’s when people are philosophical. You know, I think that if there is a God, he too would dislike philosophy. If I were God, my first motion would be to smite all those who engage in philosophy with a plague of rolling melons. Of course, I would have to wipe myself out too - after all - what sort of an Almighty creator would I be if I didn't think deep thoughts? Besides, I’m a professional philosopher.
Me: Aren’t you a professional melonologist?
Storeowner: Melonology is a subcategory of philosophy, of course. That’s quite a common misconception and…
Me: That doesn’t make any sense! Melons are simple, easily understood objects!
Storeowner: Now you’re just being illogical. All the other philosophers spend their time thinking deep thoughts about God, and we haven’t even the slightest bit of evidence that anything of the sort even exists. At least I KNOW the melon is there, so why not think deep thoughts about it instead? When science disproves the existence of a God, all of the regular philosphers will be out of a job, but I highly doubt that sciecne will ever disprove the existence of melons.
Me: Well, melons are tangible objects.
Storeowner: But if we disproved their existence, I’m certain they would vanish. Here, watch this: That melon does not exist. (nothing happens)
Me: The melon is still there.
Storeowner: I made a calculation error.
Me: A calculation error? All you did was say the melon doesn’t exist!
Storeowner: Would you like your melon rustproofed? It’s only an extra 2.99.
Me: I DON’T WANT ANYTHING DONE TO MY MELON!!!! I just want a simple melon, free of charge, nothing else added to it.
Storeowner: Oh, so NOW you want to buy a melon.
Me: That’s what I’ve wanted right from the beginning!
Storeowner: If you can’t stop changing your mind, I’ll have to buy you a new one. Don’t drive me to that, my credit rating is too low.
Me: Can…
Storeowner: Of course, of course, you want central vac installed on your melon. Quite a useful feature.
Me: I…
Storeowner: Are you going to turn into a telephone before my eyes again? I do grow tired of such things. I would like at least once to have a customer who can buy something from me without turning into some sort of eccentric object like a train or boat or sewage plant. Last time I dealt with a sewage plant it took me 6 weeks to clean it out of my shop, and that was AFTER I hired a contractor.
Me: You know, I get the idea that you’re simply trying to keep me in the store for something.
Storeowner: Well, where else would you go?
Me: Home to eat my melon, perhaps?
Storeowner: And why would you want to do something like that?
Me: Well, I happen to enjoy melons, and since awakening this morning, I’ve had a distinctive craving for one.
Storeowner: Perhaps get yourself a pregnancy test. I have one in the back. Or just use this melon for that purpose.
Me: It’s interesting how you manage to connect everything back to this melon.
Storeowner: Well, there’s so many subtle nuances and details that you just don’t understand about it. I don’t quite get why you would want to eat something so beautiful and complex!
Me: Well, mainly because I’m hungry, and this melon provides me an outlet for that hunger.
Storeowner: But doesn’t it.
Me: But doesn’t it what?
Storeowner: That’s for YOU to decide.
Me: That wasn’t a statement!
Storeowner: It can be whatever statement you want it to be.
Me: No, no it can’t, and to tell you the honest truth, I don’t want to hear anything about melons, ever ever again in my entire life!
Storeowner: Then you don’t want to eat it?
Me: YES I WANT TO EAT IT!! As a matter of fact, I don’t even crave a melon anymore, at this point I mostly just want to spite you.
Storeowner: Well, that’s not very nice of you. You know, that’s a sign of stupidity. I always say…cruelty is simply misguided kindness, misguided kindness is simply stupidity, and stupidity is simply misguided intelligence, therefore no man is really ever mean or stupid, but every man is very much so lost, whether or not you’re mean or stupid, simply because home is where you hang your hat, and you don’t have a hat, so the analogy doesn’t apply to you. You know, if my barcode scanner were here right now, it would have a thing or two to say to you!
Me: It is. It’s right there. And it has nothing to say to me.
Storeowner: On the contrary, it has plenty to say to you. It simply doesn’t, because it has no vocal cords. I would lend it mine, but it’s intelligence would cause your brain to short circuit and explode, and I didn’t bring my mop to work today.
Me: I’ve had enough of this. (pulls a carving knife out of pocket)
Storeowner: Define “this.” Not a particularly useful word, as it could describe any number of objects.
(Me suddenly gets psychotic glint in his eye)
Me: I’m going now. Goodbye.
Storeowner: Wait…do you have a licence for that melon?
Me: Of course I don’t! There’s no skill involved in using the thing! All you do with a melon is eat it!
Storeowner: Are you even over 19?
Me: It doesn’t matter, and yes…
Storeowner: I’d like to see some ID. If you don’t I swear I’ll call security on you…
Me: There’s no rule anywhere that I have to be over 19 to buy a melon!
Storeowner: There is in my store. I have moral standards to uphold, you know.
Me: I don’t…
Storeowner: That’s the problem with the world these days, not enough traditional family values anymore. That’s exactly why I joined the World Wrestling Federation. Not much else for a girl to do in such a twisted world, but pretend to fight much larger men.
Me: You’re not even a girl!
Storeowner: There’s a special on Vagisil, aisle 1, does that answer your question?
Me: No, you’re just spouting jibberish, and I want my melon, and I want to go.
Storeowner: Does your mother know how you turned out?
Me: GIVE ME THAT!!!
Storeowner: Security!
Me: T…
(security enters the room)
Security: Do we have a problem here?
Storeowner: W…
Me: Yes! This man here seems to be robbing the store!
Storeowner: That…
Me: Don't mind anything he says - he's a little bit paranoid schizophrenic - he thinks he owns the shop. how is that possible, it's my family business?
Storeowner: I AM T…
Me: Don’t listen to anything he says - he’s been talking jibberish since he got here…probably escaped from the psyche ward or Betty Ford or anything of that sort...
Security: OK. We’re right on it. (speaks into walkie talkie) - niner niner, we have a three ten semicolon dash edible pamphlet sucking dirigible chew away my cancerous wart salad under the umbrella tree…
Storeowner: I DO OWN THIS S…
Me: Somebody gag him, please.
Security: Right on it. (puts duct tape over owner’s mouth)
Storeowner: …..! …….!!!!! …………………!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Security: Let us know if you need anything.
Me: Gotcha. Actually, (Hell, why not), I’ll give you a raise, just for the excellent job you did here.
Security: Really? Another one? Well…thanks sir!
Security: Glad to be of service. (salutes, leaves with storeowner, frolics near the end, singing “1893 dollars an hour” over and over again)
(Me walks behind counter)
Me: Not a bad counter, sturdy, yet rustic and fruity. Wouldn’t mind bearing my children on it, if only it had a little more confidence. Perhaps a good chili dog would do the trick, or if I fed it industrial waste. Always works when I don’t have anything to write.
(man walks up to the counter)
Man: I'd like to buy this melon.
Me: That'll be 4.99.
Man: OK. Excellent.
Me: Have a nice day…actually...wait just a moment…
Man: What is it?
Me: Would you like an extended warranty on that?