Zen Bastard (jimbojones) wrote,
Zen Bastard

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omfg, KKK keepin a brutha down

Of course, by "KKK" I mean "Krispy Kreme Kabal", by "brutha" I mean "me", and by "down" I mean "not possessed of rippling six-pack abs." But I'm sure you already had all that worked out for yourselves.

Last night after work, my buddy Nate and I rented this Dungeons and Dragons game for the Xbox and checked it out. This thing had a lot more in common with Diablo than D&D, but it still pwned us - before we knew it, it was 1:30 AM. Yeah, six hours of a fighter and a wizard running around in little circles like fairies shouting "oh my god, I hate spiders, kill them for me" "wtf, am I your girlfriend now? kill your own spiders" and "omfg you jackass YOU'RE A FIGHTER, give me the magic potions." Also "omg, you're fucking me" which despite the apparent homoeroticism actually just means "you trapped me on the edge of the screen and something's kicking my ass, get back here dammit." Honestly though the best part was when his girlfriend called and he dug up a headset to plug into the phone so he could keep playing. Hopefully she wasn't too disconcerted when I kept saying "wtf, KILL THAT BITCH." Hmmm. If she's a little cold to me next time I see her, I guess I'll know why.

Anyway though 1:30 rolls around and time to go home. Gas gauge is on E, so I stop at the first gas station I come to. Coffee seems like a good idea, so I go in and I'm standing there at this bewildering array of empty carafes labeled everything from "Jamaica Blue Mountain" to "French Vanilla" to "Bukkake Creme" (okay I'm making that last one up) and finally the chick working the grave shift comes over and explains to me that these, seriously, 20 FUCKING BURNERS with empty carafes on them are for "taste-testing" the "gourmet coffees" the gas station, yes, gas station, sells by the bag, not by the cup, and they only have them on in the morning. Okay wtf, fine, where's the regular stuff, okay great, thanks, yeah.

I am at this point expecting that this woman will go away. But no. She furtively looks around, spots something, and turns her body to face me directly but turns her head like thirty degrees to the side, and hunches her shoulders up around her neck. Then in an INTENSE super-quiet monotone like something out of a Bond movie, she tells me "I'm facing DIRECTLY AWAY from the security camera... don't look at me... I'm going to ask you something, and when I do, just nod your head yes or shake your head no WITHOUT LOOKING AT ME..."

Oh wow. Okay, I'm hooked. Is she going to commandeer my assistance in robbing the gas station? Try to sell me illegal drugs? Ask if she can suck my dick in the men's room? I do not want any of these things, but fuck, at this point I'm totally dying to hear the punch line. After waiting to be sure I know what's up with "security" and giving another fake-nonchalant look around, my new conspirator leans not-quite-in again and says in the same intense, urgent monotone "it's been six hours now, and I have to throw the half-dozen donuts in the case away... but I can put them in a bag and leave them on the lowest level of the case... just pick the bag up on your way out of the store... do you want me to do that..."

I glance over at the trash can, and notice it is absolutely full of uneaten donuts. Holy shit it's 1:30 in the morning in Lexington, SC and I have encountered the Harriet fucking Tubman of the donut world, moving donuts down her own personal Underground Railroad, lifting them from their late-night gas station bondage and servitude and giving them their freedom. Home girl is on a mission. She has seen her last donut wasted, and she is giving her all to helping her people go free. Yeah I'm trying to eat all semi-Atkins and like that, which doesn't fit too well with six lumps of lard-and-sugar-soaked bread, but wtf? How can I not participate in her dream?

Now the framerate and contrast level on those gas station security cameras is so piss poor that you could mistake a dude buying M&Ms for Anne Coulter blowing a donkey. As a matter of fact I hear that this has happened several times, but you should remember that it is equally possible to mistake Anne Coulter blowing a donkey for a dude buying M&Ms, and how many times does that appear to be on the camera? Draw your own conclusions. But I digress. The Bond motif is clearly important for this chick, so instead of just smiling and saying "that's very nice of you, yes please" I stared into the depths of my coffee with my laser beam eyes until it started boiling gently at the surface, and hissed "okay... I'll play it cool..." and tried to act at least as furtive and suspicious as she was while I paid for my coffee and gas. I'm kinda hoping that the camera will add like 120 pounds and it'll look like I was Rush Limbaugh scoring some pills. That guy totally needs more drama.

All I know is, I better not skip the gym tonight. But I did my part. Vive la Krispy Kreme! VIVE LA RESISTANCE!

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