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Oct 2, 2008 - 06:27 PM |
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A Lewis Black Moment |
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As I passed through my department, I was able to overhear a customer - a twitchy woman whose brittle, greying hair and prodigal crow's feet betrayed her attempts at appearing young - whine to my coworker as her meat order was being prepared. They'd been speaking for a couple minutes, the two of them. I'd seen them conversing though my ears could not know the words from my first position. My rational mind insists that what I heard was logically bracketed within a larger context. I but for the life of me cannot imagine what that context is, however. Like Lewis Black at the Ihop, I am forever doomed to carry about this nonsequitur whose basis for existence is thoroughly intangible. It now haunts me like an icepick lodged in my brain which would cause immediate and excrutiating death if removed, so hence shall it remain for all my days as a reminder to whistle much louder as I work.
Because misery appreciates the value of complicity in like spirits, I share here the words that gave me pause to stare blankly for three minutes as a thin rivulet of drool formed at the base of my chin.
I expect that the time for warnings has passed, for if you've made it this far, no sensible cautions will steer you from your masochism. May God take mercy upon your foolish curiosity.
Enjoy your apple, Eve. The garden of your sanity is forever lost.
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