I stacked paperbacks and CDs to take to Half Price Books. I needed money—hadn’t taken out my girlfriend in weeks.
They called me to the offer desk. When I walked up the Goth bookseller said:
“Yeezus, man? Harsh.”
He was referring to Kanye West’s new album atop the pile.
“It stunk,” I said.
“I think it’s genius.”
Goth handed me a receipt for $5.
“Harsh!” I said.
Later, my girlfriend asked over the phone:
“Where you taking me?”
“Burger King,” I answered. “Two Whoppers for five dollars.”
Silence, then:
“Gross.”
Except for the stomachaches, the burgers were pretty good.
They called me to the offer desk. When I walked up the Goth bookseller said:
“Yeezus, man? Harsh.”
He was referring to Kanye West’s new album atop the pile.
“It stunk,” I said.
“I think it’s genius.”
Goth handed me a receipt for $5.
“Harsh!” I said.
Later, my girlfriend asked over the phone:
“Where you taking me?”
“Burger King,” I answered. “Two Whoppers for five dollars.”
Silence, then:
“Gross.”
Except for the stomachaches, the burgers were pretty good.
