“I’m Walkin’ Here!”

May 16, 2011 at 9:19 pm (Cussed Dumbers, On the road again...)

It’s bad when you want to cut a motherfucker over some cookies.

Today’s journey to work was an aggravating one. The bus ride was quiet. I had plenty of time for rumination. No brainless squawking from the back, no need for the rolling jukebox. The driver was punctual, I had half an hour to walk slowly about ten blocks to work.

I went to the basement food court at the Upscale Mall. There is a place that sells day-old cookies, 4 for $2. (Beats the hell out of $1.35 per.) There were many bags of pastries in the basket. I wanted plain chocolate chip.

As I stepped off the escalator, a scrawny tweakery-looking dude pushed past me and dashed toward the cookie pile. Once in position, he began to make his decision.


Waiting some more.

“Do you have snickerdoodles in here?” he asked the patient girl at the counter.

“Yes, sir.” She handed him a baggie of four that had been perched on top.

“Do you have chocolate chip?”

“I have one left, it’s right here.”

She held up a baggie. The one I wanted with all my heart.

“Oh, they’re broken,” Tweakery-Guy whined. “Can you make a baggie that’s half chocolate chip and half snickerdoodle?”

“No, sorry sir.” Her eyes said, “Go fuck yourself.” Mine said worse. Motherfucker took the chocolate chip.

“Do you have any more chocolate chip ones back there?” I was hopeful.

“No, he got the last one. Sorry.”

I have never been so pissed in all my life for being denied a cookie.

I went toward the bathroom, and ended up in a retarded waltz with two hefty food court patrons. I ended up standing still and letting them walk around me. How fucking hard is it to stay to the right?

I had time to say hi to Dr T, so I headed toward the Waterfront store. As I came around the main floor of the mall, an Asian woman lost in thought veered right into me. If I stepped any further to the left I’d be falling onto the coffee shop below. I was tempted to give her an elbow to the head and a body check into the H&M, but I held back. Choose your battles.

Returning from the Waterfront store, I walked past the Yamhill Pube. It’s the bar that looks like the Star Wars cantina full of Garbage Pail Kids. There’s always a few blocking the sidewalk; spitting, cussing, dreaming of fucking their dog. I edged through the smoke, passing a bedheaded scruffian with a skateboard. He sniffed as I went by. I tried not to, from the looks of how long it had been since he’d bathed.

I heard the skateboard behind me as I approached the corner. A few feet behind, he jumped and landed on a metal sidewalk cover. CLANK! I flinched. He rolled by, trying to touch my hair. He was so busy being proud of himself he drove the skateboard into a fireplug.


He splayed out on the corner, muttering “I’m all right” to no one who cared. I didn’t laugh out loud, but I was knee-deep in internal hysterics. The smile on my face was a mile wide.

I crossed the street and prepared to cut through the mall. A beautiful young lady smiled and held the door. I hurried through, noticing that she was taller than I. (In flats, no less.) She appeared to be about 21, from the islands, and drop-dead gorgeous. I felt years younger instantly.

I made it through the majority of the workday with minimal conflict. Meg called, further lifting my spirits. I’ve had a couple of folks look like they wanted to start something, but thought better of it.

Must be the look of ‘Cookie Denied’ on my face that keeps ’em in line…

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