| I just use this Xanga to write comments, fictitious stories and nothing pertaining to my real life. My journal is here.
Criticism, suggestions, commentary and whatever random thoughts you have about what I write will help create a more realistic and interesting story as I'm just starting this out. And what you say might get incorporated into the story in some small part or fashion... :) |
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| I rarely buy music CDs. But Mina kept going on and on about this limited edition Foo Fighters album slated to be released like the next day. Her birthday is a month away, so I could take a hint. So, while driving around Santa Monica, I paid a visit to Virgin Records. I wasn't in any rush, so I put on some headphones spinning the latest eurotrance. $35. Ha, my ass, damn import tariffs. As I pulled off the headphones, an elderly woman approached me and began to weep, muttering "my son used to love that techno stuff. He'd walk these exact same aisles and flip through the latest releases. In fact, you look very much like him. It's been 2 years, but I still miss him dearly." I'm standing there stunned. I offer my condolences. A mother losing her son. How tragic. As I start to peel away, she calls back for me and begins asking me presonal questions - where do you live, did you eat dinner yet, are you getting good grades. It's obvious, she's lost it. I answer as concisely as possible, wish her the best and hide out in the alternative section. I find the Foo Fighter's CD and walk briskly to the checkout. Turns out she is directly in front of me but doesn't see me. At the cashier, she waves at me and the cashier glances at me. She must be telling the whole world about me. I swallow hard, smile and wave back. In a minute, I'll never have to see this psycho again. She leaves and it's my turn. The cashier rings me up and says "that'll be $153.87." I already have my gold visa in hand but the instant I hear that amount, I shout "one-hundred and fifty three dollars? What the fuck? It says $17.99 on the goddamn tag!" I'm one expletive short of making a scene. "Your mother said you'd cover her. Wasn't that your mother?" Well, out comes the next profanity. That bitch. I run outside the store and see her getting into a cab. I shout after her and I managed to grab and pull a leg. Just like i'm pulling yours.
grin
props to heh for the idea |
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