Whole Foods

Some short, gremlin warily approached me at whole foods and asked me if I worked there.

I thought you worked here–I see you all the time. 

Interesting because I’ve never seen you before. And what’s your point? I see the Duane Read cashier at least once a week. I see the homeless man with green hair every day.

What are you getting at? What do you want from me? Are you going to ask for my number and then text me to get coffee and then date the shit out of me and then become my boyfriend and then become my husband and then become the father of my children and then fall out of love with me because i’m post-menopausal?

I concentrate and telepathically communicate (very clearly) to him that I think he’s ugly, and he slinks away. I eat my soup in peace.

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