Subject: Just say FUCK NO to Pinks
Date: 21 Aug 1997 00:00:00 GMT
From: email@example.com (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
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
"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."