Soooo...I decided to have my hair dyed blue. Not all of it, mind you, just the ends. It's done in the Ombre technique. Look it up, I'm not explaining it to you.
So me and my blue Ombre hair went to market. And while in line to pay for my cheese, eggs, cat food and a box of tampons, ie. the super suckers ( I'm getting too old for this shit), this dude in his seventies stood behind me and eyeballed my hair. I could smell the judgy-ness oozing from his pours. Well, maybe it was Ben Gay. They both smell the same.
I just smiled at him. It's more lawful than than punching him in the dick. But unfortunately, he mistook my kind gesture as an invitation to pose a question. With a stupid smirk on his lips he pointed to my hair and quipped, "You know you're hair is blue? Why would you do that?"
The cashier, who had large gauges in her ears and an arm full of ink shook her head but let out a polite giggle.
I didn't know whether to laugh with her or just dick punch him like I originally planned. But I decided to take a different approach.
Relaxing my smile to a flat line I slowly cocked my head to the side and whispered, "The transformation has begun. After the death of three full moons the metomorphosis will be complete and then I will be ready to join my sisters and brothers in planning for world domination."
The cashier turned away from us, attempting to bag my meager groceries. I could see the rapid rise and fall of her shoulders. Her composure had been compromised.
The smirk dripped from his lips as he plucked each of his items off the conveyor belt tossing them back in his hand cart. As he opened his mouth to spew some fire and brimstone, I pressed my hand to my breast and bowed my head.
"Your time is coming. And soon you will be one of us. We will welcome you brother."
The old guy pointed his finger at me as he scurried from his place in line and croaked, "You know, you got a real problem."
The smile that I earlier swallowed ripped through my face as if it were an alien spawn. The cashier shook her head.
"That was hilarious. Mean, but hilarious."
As I snatched my bags I walked out of there wondering; was what I did mean? I wasn't nasty to him. I never told him to get bent. I didn't tell him to mind his own friggin business.
I was polite.
I called him 'brother'.
Should I have been less...creative with my retort? Should I have just played nice and let him shoot a few zingers at me? He was in his seventies, I guess the old bugger earned it.
Oh well, it was too late...or was it?
As I drove around the lot I came across the old bastard, I MEAN-- my 'brother.' His car had kissed the vehicle next to him as he was pulling out of his space. It appeared he had no intention to find the soon-to-be-pissed-off driver as he continued out of his parking space-- as if he did nothing wrong. I took the opportunity to pull next to him.
He glared at me.
I gave him the 'eye-to-eye-I-see-you' hand gesture followed by me bowing my head. I placed my hand on my breast and got the hell out of there.
I drove off feeling...redeemed.
My brother's secret was safe with me.
Although, I'm not sure how safe it is with the security cameras...
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