Friday, October 18, 2013

Real World Terror: What fools these mortals be?

     I have a tendency to lurk. Or skulk. Whichever, I somehow pull this of at my stature as a six foot tall bearded man that tends to wear red; needless to say, I blame others for not noticing me when they plot or plan things that I would otherwise be against.

     Standing in a local gas station, picking up a drink, I noticed to younger teens, perhaps sixteen or seventeen, each looking at their ID's in both wonder and awe. Now, I normally don't take much stock in the actions of humanity as it generally depresses me, but the way in which they regarded these thin plastic cards had me intrigued.
     Not bothering to try and hide myself, I walked up next to them.
     Keep this in mind.
     "Are you sure these will work dude?" Blonde asked brunette. "They don't look very real."
     "Kenneth said that he hasn't had anyone question his ID's before, and I paid like fifty bucks for each, so they better work!"
     Looking over blonde's shoulder, I see his ID does indeed look real, with a grinning photo of himself staring up from the reflective plastic. What does intrigue me, however, is the date of birth line.
     His fake ID has what I can only guess to be his accurate age upon it. 
     I choke back a laugh and cease my looming, instead choosing to slink back into the shadows of the candy aisle, snagging a snickers for my wife.
    I stand around, waiting for them to muster the bravery (or realize their problem) and head to the register. I've decided I have to be behind them when they attempt whatever it is they plan to attempt, for sheer hilarity.
     Soon enough, they make their move; they each grab a six pack of Samuel Adams and head to the register, with me softly padding behind them with my drink, a snickers bar, and a single wine cooler.
     The bleary eyed stoner behind the counter gives the two kids an incredulous look before asking to see their ID's, which they proudly hand over. Holding both ID's up for inspection, I wait on baited breath to hear the reaction.
     The clerk heaves a sigh, looks at brunette, and asks him his birthday. Brunette stutters for a moment before saying, and I will never forget this.
     "I can't remember, but it's on the card, alright?"
     Blonde is already showing signs of fear, his eyes darting from the beer to the door, a sure sign that he is contemplating doing something that only a fool would even contemplate. Sure enough, he goes for it.
     While brunette is bust trying to convince the clerk that he's of age, blond grabs a six pack and bolts for the door...
     ... directly into me.
     Normally I would have stood aside for the lad and allowed him his chance at freedom, but I hadn't even considered the fact that he would ignore my presence to that extent, so instead I stood, feet firmly planted, and allowed the blonde to bounce off of me to the ground, dropping the cardboard container of glass bottles to the ground where they busted wide open on the tile, leaking beer everywhere.
     The clerk, now upset, tells the two to get out of his store. Brunette is now looking at me with a mixture of terror and confusion, which doesn't make a lot of sense, until I hear an exclamation from behind me.
     From the police officer that had just walked into the store.
     Needless to say, the two boys were arrested for their misbehavior, hauled off in chains by the annoyed officer, leaving behind a fuming clerk who had to clean up the mess (though he did receive payment for the damaged beer from Blonde).
     All I wanted throughout this entire encounter was a soda and a snack for my wife.

No comments:

Post a Comment