Tuesday, December 2, 2008

Trader Poo


So the other day I’m in line at Trader Joes, stocking up on some Joe-Joe’s and some Italian Blood Orange Soda, when it hits me.

“Excuse me,” I said to the cashier. A teenage kid.

“Yes?”

“Maybe Douche Poo attracts hott swarms because it invokes the conquistador myth?”

“What’s that?” he asked, ringing up my Joe-Joe’s.

“The conquering hero/barbarian operting outside of societal norm. Manifest Destiny?”

“I don’t understand what you’re saying,” he replied, ringing up my chocolate Altoids. I tried again.

“It’s a theory that just occurred to me. Maybe Douche Poo codes itself as warrior/settler rather than simply greased up choad.”

“Yo, is this a question about the Two Buck Chuck? Because we’re all out.”

“No, I’m talking about the Douche Poo.”

“I don’t think we stock any Douche Poo, but I can check with my manager.”

He finished bagging up my supplies. I took the paper bag of my newly replenished cookie supply.

“Never mind.”

I walked out into the hazy Los Angeles smog.

Perhaps the idea hadn’t fully congealed. I would have to go home and contemplate it some more over mullberry mine and vittles.

# posted by douchebag1

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