Gather 'round children, let me tell you a story.
Let me start by saying that this actually happened.
I was at a CVS pharmacy the other day (or it might've been Rite Aid, one of those) and as usual I completely forgot why I came in or what I was going to buy. So naturally I wandered over to the pharmaceuticals to see what the first world offers in legalized drugs these days. And as I'm rifling through the drowsy cough medicine like a meth dealer on a deadline, I get the feeling someone is watching me. So I look around and this old woman with a black cane is looking directly at me. Being the manly man that I am, I immediately become interested in the ingredients list on the back of a nyquil bottle, staring at "Dextromethorphan" with an intensity that would put Adderall addicts to shame, while this octogenarian is looking me in the soul.
I try to ignore her. I go to a different shelf (they sell the craziest stuff in pharmacies these days, to the point where you could go in looking for the most random collection of items possible and still come out with 90% of the stuff you need. Seriously, a bag of potato chips, a nail filer, a large jar of skippy's peanut butter, three small bottles of extra-strength acetaminophen and pair of garden shears? Yes. If for some odd reason you need these items together the only thing stopping you is a curious look from the cashier. But I digress...). I'm browsing through school supplies thinking of buying a six-pack of jumbo gluesticks when I've never had to glue anything to anything in my entire life (I'm more of a tape kinda guy). Aaaand...she's right there. Like right there. And she is old, and leaning heavy on that black cane and staring directly at my face and I am more than a little spooked and her skin is hanging on her face like a deflated balloon. I decide I should just get the hell out of this haunted CVS (or Rite Aid) and mosey on over to Walmart where the prices are low and the dead rest in peace. But of course, the old lady starts talking to me.
"Excuse me, what's your name?" I pretend to ignore her (yes, I am a dick). She persists. "Excuse me."
"Yes?"
"What's your name?"
I tell her. Then she nods and suddenly touches my cheek, I recoil back and slam my elbow into one of the shelves. "You look just like my dead son" she says. And I smile, as my brain desperately tries to remember the nearest exit while screaming "RUN FUCKER RUN!" over and over in my head.
"Just like him..." Then she starts crying, not like quiet sobs into her hand or anything, no, she starts wailing hysterically. At this point I'm getting ready to run full sprint toward the door. I start checking my shoelaces and everything. People are looking at us trying to figure out what horrible thing I did to make this person break down into tears in a goddamn CVS (or Rite Aid). And then she's totally fine. Shes smiling.
"Could I ask you favor?" NO YOU HAG LEAVE ME IN PEACE
"Uhhh...sure"
"Could you call me "mother"?" Now, children when faced with these kinds of situations, the rational thing to do is realize you've entered a dimension not only of sight and sound, but of mind, and that the Elder Gods are clearly fucking with you and you need to get out. Now.
"Uhh...I don't-*ahem*-what?"
"Just once? "Mother"? Please?" I can tell the injured-animal wails are about to return and I guess I felt a little sad for her, so I do it.
"Mother..."
She beams and says thank you then just limps away. I figure the worst is over and head for the counter and she's there checking out around 30 bags of random stuff. She looks back at me and waves, I wave back (why not, at this point?). Then she limps to the exit. I get up to the counter.
"Cash or Credit?"
"Cash"
"That'll be 96.75"
"What? All I have are some gluesticks and a pack of gum?"
"Yeah, but your mother said you were taking care of her bill"
"What?"
"Yeah I asked her and she said her son was paying for everything, then she waved to you."
Naturally I drop everything and run to the door. The old lady's shoving all her bags into the back of a taxi, she spots me and leaps into the back seat like a goddamn gazzelle. I run after her, she tries to the close the door but I jam my entire arm in-between. She starts kicking me in the stomach and I grab her leg and start to pull. And I keep pulling on her leg...just like I'm pulling yours
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Topic: Terrible Jokes (Read 715132 times)