Tuesday, November 8, 2011

Alexander the Grape, Johnny Apple treats and Cherry Clans don't tast as good as Apple/Cherry/Grape-heads.



This evening I made a run to the small market  a mile or two from our house. Seeing as how today was the last day of our block exam fiasco, and my knee is progressing to the point where I can nearly bend it without blinding pain, I figured it was important to pick up some laffy taffy and lemonheads. While in the market the lady who owns the place, whom I've gotten to know, asked me about my still prominent limp. I started to tell her about the whole experience of being diagnosed with gout and how bad it was and that the timing was about as unfortunate as it can get and all. In the line behind me was a younger guy, could have easily been me from 7 or 10 years ago who chimes in and tells me that doctors are just drug pushers who are no better than a crack dealer. He says this with a sly grin, obviously having no idea that I was actually working my ass off to try and join the ranks of the "crack dealer." I just kind of half smiled, nodded and finished up my conversation with the nice shop owner, took my candy and started to limp away. The guy behind me set both of his 40oz Ole' English Charcoal filtered malt liquor bottles on the counter and also asked for some Swisher Sweets.

When I arrived back at my car, my 90lb dog (who I had brought along with me just to be nice) had dropped a couple turds in the back seat. I had to drive home with the literal and metaphorical smell of excrement all around me. This is not to say that I completely disagree with the Malt Liquor aficionado's accusations, however, the idea of hopeful crack dealers traveling the country and interviewing for a chance to actually disperse crack rock (after spending 4 years learning all the abstract, peripheral knowledge surrounding crack rock and then acing the CRCAT)) on the corner sums up my opinion of his opinion.

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