I came into town this morning with a pile of old books and CDs to trade at Bookman's. Love this place...
As I walked in, I heard the sound of hand drums. Sure enough, there 's some guy looking intently off in one direction while he tapped his hand on the skin of the drum. Like he's joining a drum ensemble or planning to confer with the gods with this $10 trinket. Then he puts that down and begins tapping a pair of claves together.
Fucking asshole. I looked at one of the guys behind the counter and said, "He's lucky I'm not hung over. Have to hammer those someplace painful."
We really are a species of self-centered asses.
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1 comment:
What a great story. The art of the short story is alive! AND, the fact it's true makes it all the better.
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