Bad Breath

Hello.

Lets get down to business.

I had to go by the glasses store this morning to pickup my new glasses. I really like them. I also really like how the sign on the window says, "TWO PAIR FOR $99!". I knew it couldn't be, no way. However, I like the feeling you get when you're riding a sliver of false hope as far as it can go . . . just waiting for rug to be pulled out. It's kinda like pretending to find a fantastic deal on a tropical vacation, getting all oiled-up and packing away the Speedo and electrical tape . . . when you really know damn well you're just taking the Greyhound to Galveston for the night. I still sometimes pretend I am about to open the mail and get my perfect SAT scores, only to be knocked down and kicked in the balls by an eviction notice or a birthday card for a past tenant, which I still keep and post on the fridge. 

So anyhoo, I go into the store and am immediately greeted by a kid with a belt buckle the size of a standard F-150 engine block who was radiating the breath of something that cannot be created by man alone. I seriously had to stand a good 5 feet away. I felt bad for him until he spoke and I realized he was a real cocky and arrogant, a real prick. So, I seeked helped elsewhere and I came to find that essentially the deal for two pairs for 99 bucks pertains only to the small rack of prison-issued brown goggles in the corner next to bad breath. Out of luck. But, that 5 seconds of project letdown were well worth it.

Uhmm. I totally lost my train of thought. 

I guess I just wanted to tell everyone I got new glasses.

THE END.