Alright, so I decided to make a quick stop into my local grocery store, Publix. They have rotisserie chicken so good, it tastes like angels cooked it, basting it with their saliva. I walk into the store and I immediately hear yelling behind me. “I am just not in mood for this today,” said with little regard for inside voices.
I turn around to see a tall, fat man with a grossly overgrown, unkempt beard. His hair was sticking out beneath his dirty hat. His old blue t-shirt had food on it, and holes in it. He looked like that huge, Paul Bunyan-like guy in suspenders that chased Pee Wee Herman around in Pee Wee’s Big Adventure. I noticed his nipples were hard because we were in the produce section, admittedly, I was attracted to him.
The wife was comparatively smaller than her lumber jack-ish husband. Her eyebrows were out of control and looked like small mammals. She appeared exhausted, haggard as if she had just survived several various attacks (dirty bomb and brown bear).
The reason she looked this way was no doubt the three screaming heathens in the grocery cart. They were singing, arguing, and fighting. These kids were not only way too old to be in the cart (they looked like they were in middle school), but too old to be acting so obnoxiously. I think they all legitimately had ADHD, nonetheless, if they were mine I would dose those turds with all kinds of meds. Now I know what the mom was thinking offering those powdered treats in Flowers in the Attic.
As the kids are singing in unison way too loud, the parents make no attempt to stop it. Nope, dad simply complains aloud about how the kids are driving him crazy. Several times, as I follow them to the deli and then bakery, he tries to talk louder than his kids to mom about food or about how bad his kids are behaving. An older lady is watching this in utter disbelief, understandably, and the dad actually yells, “Take a picture it will last longer!” Really? Your kids are acting like members of a southern evangelical church in a tent revival and YOU get mad when people stare?
I lost this family after they went to the chip and soda isle, a great dietary choice for any kid that is hyper active. I am thinking they should check the automotive section for some extra lethal antifreeze, but I guess Twinkies are fine (with concealed razor blades).
No doubt mom silently suffers with this as her fat ass husband stomps heavily about the mobile home shaking it, griping incessantly about everything. The rottweiler mix dogs tear up the floral print couch and love seat. One of her stupid kids have to go to the ER tonight after playing WWF on bunk beds. (Oh no! Wesley broke his face, see if Catfish will come over an’ watch the little ‘uns!) I could be wrong but but this may be a good time for mom to be an alcoholic.
So I am pretty sure I want to pour boiling water into my vagina so I may render myself permanently infertile. I mean pregnancy is just a fifth of vodka and a tumble down the stairs away from being resolved, but I don’t want to take the risk. I want to swallow the morning after pill every day just in case. These kids are really that awful.
With all of this being said, the rotisserie chicken was well worth it. I usually get the original recipe, but barbecue and chipoltle are delicious as well. The meat slides off the bone so sweetly, its like the tendons are made of butter. What a delightful dinner for under 8.00 dollars and the meat is so versatile. TOTALLY worth standing in the check out line a little too long with this super competent mother/father team and their retarded squirrel children.