Subject: Just say FUCK NO to Pinks

Date: 21 Aug 1997 00:00:00 GMT

From: (MegaLiz)

Organization: MotPU: Where Binary Moodswings are ALWAYS on the Menu

Newsgroups: alt.foot.fat-free, alt.slack






The situation was as banal as ever, but it ended with a near explosion

of multiple yeti hate all over an immaculate parking lot. I had this

small idea that I could do something for Sparky. Our Sparky is a weird

kid, and I don't think "high-strung" really describes her well enough.

When faced with a new situation, the extra electrical activity in her

cortex makes her hair fill with static and she begins to emit faint

crackling noises. I suspect that at those times when she's really in

full data-confrontation mode, she could jump start a car battery - no

problem. Maybe "high-tension" would be a better phrase for her. In any

case, we call her Sparky for GOOD REASON.


The plan was simple: Sparky would be in charge of buying two gallons

of milk. She chose to go to an unfamiliar store, and was happily

engrossed in pocketing my cash and leading the rest of the herd to the

dairy zone and back to the cashiers. So far so good. Nobody stopped to

oogle her or otherwise distract her until we actually committed to a

check out line.


I didn't correct her when she picked a line behind an old gal with a

week's worth of Lean Cuisine: Sparky can count to 1,000, but she can't

read "Express Lane - 10 Items or Fewer." As soon as we stopped,

however, an imposing looking manager huffed up to us and asked if we'd

like to use the express lane. I asked Sparky. She shook her head. "No

thanks," I said, "she's in charge today." We could see that our

refusal shook this drone to her PINK CORE. Obviously I was supposed to

swoon with delight and hustle my pupa to the other end of the store

while thanking her enthusiastically over my shoulder. (Fuck THAT - I

have ALL DAY if I need it). I checked Sparky, and was concerned to see

a blue wisp or two forming on her scalp. Uh oh.


I felt a hand on my shoulder, and turned, just as a harried cashier

breathed at me, "I'll take you at number six!" She disappeared before

I had a chance to say a word, but the manager was ON IT. She leapt to

aisle six and shouted, "Forget it! The KID is in charge!" By now,

Sparky had nearly reached full overload, her eyebrows standing out

from her forehead. Poor thing, even *I* didn't know what was WRONG

with these NORMCREEPS. Apparently they have sworn a BLOOD OATH to have

no more than one customer in line in any one aisle or some other

Moosoleenee madness.


Everything changed when Sparky finally got some change. She was

THRILLED with the way that she gave the nice lady ONE ten dollar bill

and got FOUR ones in return. Heh. This is probably the only reason

anyone made it out of there alive. The insistent helpfulness of the

Loading Man out front would have finished her fersure.


Most everything seems backwards if you look at it gnol hguone. Really,

who isn't suspicious of unctuousness? The WORD doesn't even come out

without jutting your chin and grinding your teeth, now does it? I no

longer WANT anyone to help me do ANYTHING unless I ask them to do it.

It seems to me that there's this insistent expectation smelling up any

NORMAL unsolicited helpfulness. Whatever Slack you get in these

situations will be sucked back EXPONENTIALLY if you aren't alert. I'm

pretty sure.




"You're driving to my blind cone--then a high G. But abort your angle of

attack. My sparkle is too much for you. You're a spitter. Now terminate

any intercept in progress."any intercept in progress."