I don’t know how many of you CCB faithful (at last count there’s now ten of you, which includes the three haters who send menacing emails…we’re growing!) ever watched the late 1970’s sitcom “Soap”…frankly, if you’re old enough to remember the show, I’m sorry for you because you’re at least as old as me.
For those of you too young remember what was probably one of the all-time funniest and most cleverly written TV shows, I’ll get to the point (sorry I don’t think there’s a “Soap” app for your iPhone, iPad, iPod, or iWhatever). There was a character on the show named Burt Campbell (played by the actor, Richard Mulligan). Burt was a construction contractor who accidentally killed the husband (a mobster) of his future wife, Mary Campbell. At some point in the show’s run, Burt learns to deal with the stress of having accidentally murdered a mobster, the mob coming after him, keeping his involvement a secret from his then wife, and dealing with the death of his son by snapping his fingers and making himself invisible. Here’s a short YouTube video about invisible Burt. My point in sharing ancient TV history with you is that I sometimes feel I’m invisible. I’ve always thought of myself as being able to blend into a crowd somewhere…disappear, as it were. Last Friday, I figured out that my invisibility mojo doesn’t always work for me. I spent the better part of the weekend trying to figure out why by consulting with Chickasaw and Cheyenne-Arapaho gaming experts and driving recklessly all over the state while listening to Sarah Palin’s keen “analysis” (uh huh) of Republican presidential hopefuls (she could do that once a week from now until the election in 2016 and never have to discuss the same candidate twice). But, I digress… Friday I was in Walmart generally hating life. I really hate that store. Okay, sure it’s a necessary evil, particularly since there are no longer any T.G. & Y. stores (sorry, I’m letting my age show again). It’s just that Walmart (particularly the one here in Cosmic City) is run by interplanetary aliens bent on destroying humanity one biological at a time. For instance, the wife and I are standing in line behind someone who was trying to purchase one of those snakey garden hoses that virtually coils itself after you shut off the water (ain’t modern life grand?). The problem was the electronic cash register crashed (again, ain’t modern life grand?) and the cashier was becoming increasingly frustrated. Now, at this point, the wife had started putting her purchases on the belt in anticipation of actually being able to purchase them (silly, silly woman). Finally, a floor manager comes over and begins typing her secret code into the machine to resurrect it from what appeared to be sudden electronic death (SED is an affliction recognized by Radio Shack, though they can’t do much about it unless you agree to give up your ZIP code). Unable to resuscitate the machine, she muttered something in the cashier’s ear and both of them walked away. Literally…without a word to any of us in line, including the poor fellow who was simply trying to buy a snakey hose…whoosh, they’re gone. The wife began semi-throwing her purchases that she was unable to purchase back into the basket and then went off in search of another cashier. She didn’t say a word to me, or even look at me. That’s when I realized that my own Burt invisibility mode was engaged. Stealthily, I made my way over to one of those benches they have at the front of store for pissed-off husbands who get tired of standing in line waiting for one of the interplanetary aliens to ring up their purchases. I sat myself on the bench as the wife found another line to begin her terminal wait for service. I was kind of zoning out, contemplating my next scene in the screenplay I’m writing on spec for entry into the Twister Alley Film Festival when suddenly my reverie was broken by a voice. I looked up to see a young woman with purple hair (seems to be really popular here in Cosmic City) who asked if I was waiting for her to give me a haircut. I realized two things at that moment: 1) my Burt invisibility mode was apparently disengaged…but, I didn’t want to snap my fingers to re-engage in front of the woman lest she learn my secret; and, 2) I was sitting just outside the Walmart hair place where she apparently worked. Immediately after asking the question, she started laughing and said she was only kidding. I told her I would happily come in if she could make me look like a young John Wayne. She got a serious look on her face and then asked me, “Who’s John Wayne?” At the same time, she pointed out that there were hair clippings on the floor in her shop and that she could probably glue some back on top of my head. She started laughing again (hint, if you’re folliclely challenged may I suggest you not sit outside hair fixery places…you’re bad for business and the employees taunt you). She did offer to dye my beard to give it some color. Fearing that she was thinking of dying it purple, I asked how she thought I would look as a blond. She laughed again and walked back inside her shop. I looked over at the wife who was engaging some nefarious looking dude in conversation (she’ll talk to anyone). I began to zone out again when I felt someone kick my knee. I looked up to see my attacker was none other than CCB’s favorite news reporter, Rachael Van Horn of Woodward News fame. She had managed to get her purchases purchased and was making her way out of the living hell that is Walmart on a Friday afternoon. As she engaged me in a brief conversation, I looked up and down the front of Walmart to see if there was an orthopedic surgeon store there. The closest I could come was an optician in the Walmart Eye Center…they’re sort of real doctors, right? So, what I learned from all of this is: 1) my own Burt invisibility mode needs work; 2) if Sarah Palin is so smart why isn’t she running with the rest of them; 3) Chickasaw and Cheyenne-Arapaho gaming experts don’t have many answers to deep philosophy-of-life questions unless of course you manage to hit a Super Jackpot special on Senior Day Sunday; 4) the interplanetary aliens at Walmart are there to suck the soul right out of you; 5) while at Walmart, be sure to wear a Mexican wrestling mask that covers your entire head and keep your orthopedist on speed-dial. It’s a damned scary world out there…you know? Comments are closed.
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