So I was spending a day at my parents home, where I grew up, my hometown. A lot of people love their hometown, the quaint lil shops in the downtown area, the beautiful lil parks and playgrounds.
Well I fucking hate it. I hate almost everything about my hometown. There are a few things I love about it and everyone who also hates where they came from cannot deny they don't hate all of it.
Usually, when I go visit home base, I go food shopping get food for myself, sometimes for the home base as well. This weekend I was tired and hungry. The home base did not have any food. Every time I go food shopping, I drive an extra 10 minutes to the next town over and shop in that grocery store. A multitude of reasons lead me to do this, the main being I won't be acknowledged, spoken to, or related to by anyone still associated with the town, the high school, or anything with our stupid powder blue colors. I was not a celebrity in my town, nor am I now.
I think most people know what I mean. You accidentally wear a hometown article of clothing and people strike a conversation. As if I went through my closet, found the shirt, pants, hat, sweatshirt or whatever, saw the hometown logo or colors and thought, "Hey this one'll be a great ice breaker when I head down to the local market shops!!". No. Noo.
Absolutely not. I am a big fan of free clothing. Show a cause, club, gathering that is handing out free clothing and I'm there. I don't take care of free clothing. I really don't take care of free clothing I got in High School, I'm not gonna wear it out to the bar or out with my friends. You don't have to wash free clothing because it's free. I usually just have a reserve of shirts, pants that were free and I use them when I need a quick grab to run out of the house with. This idiotic belief that my clothing will give you insight and the green light to start a conversation with me is ridiculous. I don't wanna talk to you. What insane person working a close to minimum wage job wants the customers to talk to them? Just mind your fucking business as you ring up the sale. I won't talk to you and you don't have to talk to me. I use a payment method to finish the transaction, I collect my things and I leave. A nice and easy interaction, and one that on average is less than 7 words.
Just so happens, I was tired, I was hungry. So instead of a 10 minute drive both ways, I decided to go to the local supermarket in my town. I'm shopping, minding my own business, having a great time picking out my food. Everything was great, I finished collecting my items and I headed over to the cash register. My dad and I are placing items on the conveyor belt, everything seems fine.
Until the cashier makes a comment about my hat. A simple beanie hat, and a simple question, yet it threw me off guard. For a few seconds I was speechless, stunned at the assholery of this fucking guy. So I look up and the cashier had a very innocent face, did not seem like a bad guy. So I tried to replay what he said in my head, and I put together what he was asking. He had asked me what my hat meant, it said "black saturday", underneath the writing was the towns offensive mascot logo. For a few seconds longer I stumbled upon how I was going to explain that my hat was the only good thing that came from an illegal annually held practice by my piece of shit former high school football head coach, that he and his confidants staged up as a day of team building games. I'm pretty sure one of the "team building" games was they made us take off all our pads in the locker room run an 1/8th of a mile to our practice field, line up in teams, run back to the locker room get dressed and run back. Another amazing team activity was as teams, we had to go into the woods find the biggest log we could and bring them back to the field. Real genius shit right?
So I was stuck trying to explain my hat to the cashier when some high school freshmen bag boy says, "Black Saturday? Oh yea that's a football thing" First things first. FUCK YOU. Just because I am short does not mean you can talk over me. Try that on me in a not so public place and see how that works. Secondly, FUCK YOU. Since when is it cool to butt yourself into a conversation that you are literally involved in 0% of? As soon as he interrupted me, I tried to interrupt him but it ended up with me just saying "Yea, Yea. Yea it is" a few seconds after he finished. The cashier knew something was off because he immediately disengaged, or he was just doing his job.
After a few moments of awkward silence, the transaction was finished and I was grabbing my food about to leave. When the dastardly prick filling bags with lettuce turns to me and says, "You play (town name) football?", nah man I just fucking murdered your starting quarterback and stole this hat. It looked cool so I wore it out in public because secretly I want people to know of my glory. I turned as I heard his voice and upon hearing the formation of his question I turned back slamming my groceries into my cart and answered, "Yes". This bitch gave me a follow up too, "Atta boy".
Once I heard that, I don't think I grabbed the rest of my groceries I just started carting out.
Who the fuck did that kid think he was. I graduated in 2013, the shit heads coaches invented black Saturday MY JUNIOR year. I might be short but I am not a fucking boy. There is an extremely small list of people who have the clearance to call me boy and random freshmen bag boys are not on the list.
There is a reason why the last thanksgiving football game I stood on the sidelines for was my senior year. That is pretty much it.
Hey bag boy, your not my superior, not my elder, your not my sous chef, your not even my head chef.
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