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I went to the grocery store today. While I was at the checkout counter, this little snot nosed bagboy came up and asked me how I was doing. I replied that I was doing just fine. He, the dreaded bagboy, then turned to the cashier and said, "That's the 90th person that said that today," while laughing about my purposely insincere response.
That just burned me. In the split second between hearing the bagboy, a little nothing of a human being, make that statement to the cashier as if I wasn't even there, and the time it took for me to put pen to check, I just boiled over.
I looked at the litle goober and asked him if he really was interested in how anyone felt. I then proceeded to tell him that I, on many occasions, had told the cashiers how I felt, but they didn't seem to evince any interest. I stood there lambasting this...this...scrotum of humanity for several minutes until I realized that his mind had gone bye-bye. That he had curled up into himself like a little dark seed.
I don't hate today's youth. I just try my best to avoid them. If people of my generation want to procreate, so be it. But they have to remember that they did do lots of drugs, and that the fruit of their loins, and their son's and daughter's loins, may not be as swift as they once were.
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