A writer’s embellishment of what just happened:
ME: Hello. I was just down at my local hippie food cooperative buying accompaniments for my pork chop. I remembered to purchase two russet potatoes and a bar of chocolate, but I forgot to buy sour cream. Since I park in the garage across the street, it is a perceived pain in the ass to get back in my car even to drive a few city blocks, so I thought I would come to the corner market to “save me some time.” However, I notice you do not have any sour cream. But there is this weird middle-eastern yoghurt spread here. Is this anything like sour cream, because I’m already sold that it is and I really am just asking to be polite because at this point, I’d rather have a mediocre substitute than I would to get in my car again and drive.
GROCER: NO! It is NOT like sour cream. It goes on a sandwich. And I do not need more of your American dollars, you running dog imperialist bastard. And I know that my friend here is breaking New York law by smoking a cigarette inside of my shitty weird corner grocery that sells nothing but beer and hummus. But I do not care. For I am one of Obama’s minions, and in this establishment, we only obey the Sharia. No nasty yoghurt spread for you, you running dog imperialist. Why, I bet you’re CIA, and I should take you hostage! ALAH AKBAR!
ME: Thank you sir. Back to the hippie cooperative grocery for me.
End scene.
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