Out of Order
The 7-Eleven at 3rd and Broadway has been an absolute madhouse ever since the store opened it’s doors as the Kwik-E-Mart earlier this month in anticipation of The Simpsons movie. Curious gawkers from around the mid-west have been making pilgrimages across the land, eager to snatch up boxes of Krusty-O’s, six-packs of Buzz Cola, snap a few photos of Bart and Milhouse sitting on the roof before convulsing in the throes of full-on diabetic attacks before making their way back home.
Because it’s our God-given right as Americans.
But so many people have been taking advantage of that right, that the store has had to hire a security guard to make sure no delinquents make off with the Squishee machine. I live a few blocks from the Kwik-E-Mart, so have been there several times this month, alternately purchasing beef jerky and Keno tickets, and I have sized up the security guard on more than one occasion: old, slow, bifocals like the bottom of two Coke bottles. On more than one occasion I have thought, “Sir, I say sir, if you wanted to stop me from taking anything, literally anything, from this store, there is not a chance in hell you could do so.” But I’m a good lad (on paper) so I have avoided testing this Bob Barker.
But while filling up my car the other day, I saw this man. Though the picture is shaky -- I hadn’t drank in over six hours -- you can still see that the Kwik-E-Mart has had to hire on yet another security guard, this one roughly the size of two elephants, African, not Asian.
If the Kwik-E-Mart wanted to capture in size and feel the size of the Comic Book Store Guy, then bravo. But if the goal was for this man to ensure order in the parking lot, not so much. I hesitate to rip on someone just because they are morbidly obese (yeah fucking right), but as I sat at the pump, squeezing global warming into my SUV, I could not help but marvel as this man absolutely devoured one of KFC’s Famous Bowls. In no time, his Styrofoam bowl of everything-wrong-with-America was completely empty, yet this man continued to plunge his spork deep into the crevices of the bowl, no doubt hoping to find a prize such as morsel of corn or popcorn chicken there, like that one time he found a dollar bill in a fold.
KFC bowl completed, the man then picked up what was either a 136- or 138-oz. Big Gulp and proceeded to Hoover three-pop-cans-worth of sugar into his arteries. He then sighed contentedly, and patted himself on his second stomach, the one under his belt.
I could not only steal seven cases of Buzz Cola before this man could so much as get out of his chair, but I could then shake them up like an asshole, spray them over anyone and everyone in the store, kick the ATM in the keypad just because, then grab two bags of charcoal and a Sunday Times and be on my merry way.
Thank God this guy’s not in charge of the new Harry Potter book. He’d be ripped to shreds like Eskimos on a walrus.
Also funny, check out this interview with Matt Groening.
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