Saturday, January 28, 2012
Conspiracies of the third kind
Bill was not the sort of fellow who
drank tea. He found it stuffy and bland. He now meticulously read the
back of a small box of peppermint with a rapt expression. Passing
housewives made nervous glances at the portly man blocking the small
convenience store isle. They might approach to request he move, but
found themselves disarmed before his fierce expression. This was the
stuff of the wise and the rich. He reread the ingredients list for
the 43rd time. Peppermint leaf. Of course, he knew the box
was lying. What of the string and little tags and those strange
clothlike bags?
In a sudden motion he placed the box
neatly back on the shelf with an excellent precision causing a nearby
shopper to jump and a young lady to gasp. He, suddenly aware, gave
sympathetic looks to both. “May wish to watch those nerves!” he
woofed with a huff as he suddenly began his journey to the front of
the store.
“I recommend the peppermint.”
He left the store empty hand. This was
acceptable. There was a Wal-mart just down the street. They had
better be more honest. They had better mention the packaging, or,
come heaven or hell, someone may end up choking on it.
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