THIS is how It's done

Today's story is by my fearless, tart-tongued friend Steve, an artist living in St. Augustine, Florida. He was diagnosed with Retinitis Pigmentosa and severe Glaucoma at 50 and is, at this point, almost entirely blind—no longer able to paint.

 Steve's, smartly, still wearing a mask when out and about. Why? Self-preservation, babies—COVID is in no way over.

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I've been looking for some top-quality hiking boots for walking Gakko (his dog) -- all my walking shoes have done some serious damage to my feet. Someone suggested I stop by "Tractor Supply," saying they had a nice selection . . . so Mom & I pull into their parking lot. I pull out my covid mask and put it on -- I still wear it every time I enter a store -- especially one I know that will be full of deplorable trumpanzees. I turn to Mom and say, "well, this ought to be interesting. IF I'm not back in 15 minutes, I've probably been murdered for daring to wear a mask.”

I walk through the front door, and within ten feet of me are the cashiers. One calls out to me and asks if she can help me. I reply that I'd like to see some hiking boots. A grotesquely obese, tall redneck, covered in tattoos and wearing a bandana, was having his purchases rung up -- he hollers, "Take him to the ladies shoes, 'cause real men don't wear masks.”

I calmly and with a smile replied, "Real men don't insult old, blind men just to boost their shitty egos upon the backs of others -- that's what cowardly bullies do." He steps away from the cashier and comes at me with his fist raised and says, "I ought to beat the shit out of you right here for saying that." I replied, "Go ahead. Beat the shit out of me in front of all these witnesses and surveillance cameras to prove to everyone you haven't aged a day, emotionally or intellectually, since your prepubescence. 400-pound, Ahmed is going to really enjoy you in prison for a decade or two.”

Several people in line erupted in applause!!! Then, the disgusting redneck started shouting incoherent babble inches from my face. While wagging my little finger in the air, I calmly said, "Really, you've already proven you're barely human, and now you want to over-compensate for the serious shortcomings in your pants -- it's best to stop your insanity now." He gritted his teeth, snarled at me and stomped out of the store without finishing his purchases or paying for them.

I then asked the clerk if we could now take care of business since the show was over and the clown had left the building . . . she laughed, people in line laughed, and I was led to the men's shoe section.

I bought a pair of nice hiking boots and headed to the car. Mom immediately asked what was going on in the store -- she said some huge, dumpy redneck flew out the door screaming, jumped into an old, beat-up pick-up, squealed his wheels and flew right into traffic nearly causing a wreck. I told her a pathetic trumpanzee had just been "bested" and humiliated. Mom laughed as I relayed the story to her, then we drove off for mocha frozen coffees with an extra shot of espresso . . . my will power kept me from getting a Boston creme doughnut to go with the frozen delight. 

(all artwork is by Steve)

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THIS is how it's done!