Know that it’s not cool to jump off a Subway restaurant. It just isn’t. My brother was neither holy nor insane, so I can’t tell you why he did it.
“I am an IED and this Walmart life is a
short fucking fizzle,” was all he kept shouting down to the security guards and
latex-gloved sandwich artists waiting to catch him.
Fearing that the slip-of-tongue might cause
some friction with a minor fast food butt buddy (and more importantly, a
possible decline in sales in the Global Regression aisle), Walmart decided to
sue the entire town for malicious suburban redundancy.
We thought we had a pretty decent case
until they brought in the Disney lawyers, who immediately started handing out
10-percent-off passes to Space Mountain to the judge, the non-Hispanic members
of the jury, and every third octogenarian who promised to buy a Five Dollar
Foot-long. That’s when we knew they’d take everything.
Now my brother can’t go to the U2 concert
next week because he doesn’t have eyes anymore. None of us do. Just old, raw
sockets. It really isn’t cool.
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