Scene 1: At a pet food store in Tuxedo around noon on 24 December, 2012. We shall call it “Pet Barn” to protect the reputation of the establishment.
[Waiting in line behind 20-something couple blowing $76 on dog toys for their dog, and having each. one. wrapped. individually.]
Clerk at PetBarn: Would you like this deer chew wrapped?
Clerk: We can wrap it!
Me: No. I’ll put it in my purse.
Clerk: How about a bow?
Clerk: Green and red bows are festive. I can tie it on real quick.
Me: My dog self identifies as Jehovah’s Witness.
Clerk: Oh. Are you JW?
Me: No. Just the dog.
Seriously? My 7 lb, inbred pomeranian lacks the opposable thumbs necessary to undo a fancy bow.
Nor does she get some sort of thrill from unwrapping the bone-motif paper just-so. She is a dog, and not a very bright one at that.
The dog has no fucks to give. None. Not one.
Scene 2: At a grocery store in Grant Park Festival, around 3 pm on 24 December, 2012.
[Groceries are being rung through the till by a teenage boy who is a poster boy for a “before” Clearasil ad.]
Clerk: Are you ready for Christmas?
Me: Yep, and I can’t wait for it to be over so we can get back to normal.
Clerk: *gasp* BUT WHY? CHRISTMAS IS FUN!
Me: *eyebrow raise* Fun?
Clerk: It’s only one day a year! Come on! All the presents!
Me: One day? It has been going on since Hallowe’en ended. It’s a two month long consumeristic orgy borne of obligation.
Clerk: I guess you’re right. I never thought of it that way. Man. That’s kind of depressing.
Me: You’re welcome.
Scene 3: Pet food store in Grant Park.
[standing in line, waiting for other people to have their Humvee sized dog crate wrapped]
Clerk: Did you find everything you were looking for?
Clerk: I see you looking at that rawhide. Would you like me to ring that up for you?
Me: No. It looks like a festive colon.
Clerk: *looks at rawhide* A what?
Me: A festive colon. A Yule Intestine.
Clerk: *says nothing* *makes face*
Clerk: I can’t unsee that.
Me: I told you.