Sit back and enjoy another “Conversation Borne of Extreme Misunderstanding of Terms and Conditions” or “Brian’s Wishful Thinking, A Ride Through Old Town on a Holiday Weekend” Edition:
“Look at that, will you? ‘Greatest Furniture Sale!’ That’s some lofty expectation.”
“What are you talking about?”
“The sign stretched across the street with the huge red letters proclaiming GREATEST FURNITURE SALE! and then repeated on every pane of glass on their facade. That’s some self-assurance, sale-wise. Good on them.”
“Maybe it’s in some proportion to the other stores right here in the neighborhood.”
“They’re the only furniture store in the neighborhood. That’s almost defeatist if you see it like that. We went from sixty to zero with that kind of local thinking.”
“What if it IS the greatest furniture sale then? What if you went in there and were amazed by it? Like the sort of a sale that becomes etched into the history of the town, eclipsing even the importance of the holiday weekend it was held.”
“Maybe they give you a blowjob.”
“That would be great. I’ll take the sofa!”
“Sir, this purchase includes fellatio. Would you like that now or…? And the sales guy is holding the intercom all ready to page someone over for ‘assistance’ and some customer is all deep in thought like ‘Oh! I could do this now OR maybe at delivery, but this stuff looks heavy, and what if they outsource delivery and some burly dudes show up all like ‘No overtime this week, so I’ll be providing the perk included with your purchase’ and that would be bad, so he’s all like ‘Honey, wait here,’ and then gives a thumbs-up to the sales guy and he pages ‘Destiny to End Tables. Destiny, End Tables for Greatest Sale promotional assistance, please!’ ”
“You’re implying that only men buy furniture.”
“This store IS in the ‘Heritage District.’ Also, you can’t really give a woman a blowjob. The fine print probably states this clearly. OK, in this new world order bullshit, maybe. Like Bruce Jenner buys a nice armoire and settee and…”
“…and we’re done with this conversation.”
Another night of these begging little bastards with their iPhones and $200 sneakers, being dropped off in our neighborhood by yoga pant-wearing women driving Lexus and BMW SUV’s to mooch free food.
In keeping with tradition, we’ll hand out condoms in the hope that these pint-sized ingrates will take them home and prevent their parents from having any more children that they can’t feed.