Filed under: What Shortbus Thinks
Gee gosh, here’s a self-designated classic from last February!
As we all know, there are a few universal truths in life. You die, you pay taxes and morbid obesity is funny. However, I’ve noticed a trend lately that hasn’t been all that funny, like morbid obesity. No, it’s been sick and disgusting… just like being plain old fat.
I’m talking about fat people riding department store scooters. You know what I’m talking about. Those convenient little four wheeled contraptions with a wire rack on one end and the sting of shame on the other. Everybody knows they were invented for two reasons: so disabled people could shop for melons and intoxicated college students could race around the electronics section. And that was fine. But just like how people had to go messing with the Reese’s peanut butter cup (…Elvis!) leave it to the H.R. Puffenstuffs of the world to screw up the scooter carts for everybody.
Now it seems like I can’t walk through those wonderful automatic doors without seeing Ma and Pa Buttersworth breaking a sweat giving Mr. Scooter all she’s got, Scotty. Last week I was staring at a scooter being ridden by one these escaped Macy’s Day Parade floats and I swear I saw a single tear trickle down it.
This ridiculousness of this unabashed laziness is only matched by these peoples’ nerve to get offended when I stare at them. I’m sorry, but if while you’re hogging a scooter from people who ACTUALLY need it you stand up just so you can reach the jumbo box of moon pies on the top shelf and then sit back down, I’m going to stare at you like a P.T. Barnum sideshow act.
And that’s the part that infuriates me like one of these people realizing their Piggly Wiggly coupon book has been stolen: THEY DON’T NEED THESE SCOOTERS! It’s like a self fulfilling proFATcy. These people don’t think they need to walk because they’re too fat. So they sit down while they buy their Star Crunch cakes, and in the process… GET FATTER! Listen guys, I may not be Dave Thomas, Col. Sanders, or even “the Big Boy” here, but just hear me out. Walkin’ ain’t that hard. Sure, it may not be as fun as suckin’ back a delicious Ashland Kentucky Smashburger, or diving face-first into a Triple Hoburger with an egg on it… mmm… sorry, but it’s got its got its perks! Like letting the bearded lady in Home and Garden be the spectacle of the store, and not you.
So next time you waddle your way through those automatic voodoo powered doors… you tell me how they work… keep your chins up, looking for falling prices, and not to the left… searching for your instrument or sloth destruction. And after take those 5 steps past that scooter and wipe the sweat from your brow, you’ll feel good. …Or have a massive heart attack. I don’t know.
Leave a Comment so far
Leave a comment
