Wherein our beloved author goes mad
That damn joke.
Picture if you will, a girl working the register at the local anime store.
She is checking out a customer who has purchased more than a hundred dollars worth of merchandise. The customer hands her two fifties.
She is obligated to check the bills. The part of town in which the store is located is not the best, and counterfeit money would not be suprising.
She raises it to the lights overhead, searching for the face of some long-dead political figure whose name escapes her.
Time stops.
Will the customer say it?
Will he?
Will he, mercy of mercies, keep his mouth shut?
Of course not.
"It's fine. I printed it this morning!"
The girl's mind snaps. Is she stuck in a timeloop? Did she not just hear that joke two minutes ago? Did she kill a kitten as a child and thus she is being punished for it by enduring one of the stalest jokes imaginable over and over again?
Maybe.
Picture if you will, a girl working the register at the local anime store.
She is checking out a customer who has purchased more than a hundred dollars worth of merchandise. The customer hands her two fifties.
She is obligated to check the bills. The part of town in which the store is located is not the best, and counterfeit money would not be suprising.
She raises it to the lights overhead, searching for the face of some long-dead political figure whose name escapes her.
Time stops.
Will the customer say it?
Will he?
Will he, mercy of mercies, keep his mouth shut?
Of course not.
"It's fine. I printed it this morning!"
The girl's mind snaps. Is she stuck in a timeloop? Did she not just hear that joke two minutes ago? Did she kill a kitten as a child and thus she is being punished for it by enduring one of the stalest jokes imaginable over and over again?
Maybe.