This is not another wimpy white guy story. I’m sorry I’ve been running into so many emasculated white men lately, so have decided to pull this one from the 2010 archives. I keep promising Crazy Mark but that’s an involved piece, so maybe next week his story will be told. I modeled a scene in Pillagers of Time after this white trash event that occurred as I was working as what could only be described as the worst cashier in supermarket history.
I was operating register #5 at about 8:00 a.m. on a Sunday morning when a tiny Mexican lady and her small army of ninas and chiquitos came through my line with WIC checks and an EBT card that was all duct-taped together. Behind her, waiting impatiently, with his pint of Haagan Daz and a plastic spoon, was Mister Clean, so-named for his resemblance to the cleaning product mascot; a big bald white man with one earring and big muscular arms and heavy blonde brows. The only difference was this Mister Clean had a handlebar mustache.
As I finally finished the order and he snarked under his breath something about “little brown rats,” I smiled comfortingly at the little lady busily stuffing her bags and children into the cart. Then, as I greeted him with a, “Good morning sir,” he began to complain about the electronic register system, the humiliating nature of my wage slavery in service to these aliens, and then…
Bare It
Two white women, one about seventy and whining about being tired as she lay on her cart and walk-glided into the lane, and the other bitching about something, interrupted his rant. What was worse is the old fat broad bumped him with her shopping cart and he went off, snarling, “Watch it ϲunt!”
The younger woman—about our age in her late 40s and stout as a dyke rugby player, pulled the fat broad out of line so hard she almost fell, but was saved by the Frito display, and shouted, “You have a problem you needle dick motherfucker! Then talk to me!”
I then glanced at the Mexican lady who seemed worried that her entire family might soon be squashed beneath the titanic Americans. Mister Clean then faced the woman squarely, big hammer fists on hips, and barked, “Suck my ass bitch!”
The older women nearly swooned as she said “Ooh”. But the five foot eight inch 200 pound coil of low rent feminist fury was up to the challenge, got up under his chin, and snarled, “Bare it!”
He repeated more loudly, glowering down at her, “Suck my ass bitch!”
She screamed, “Bare it bitch! Turn around and bare it! I’ll suck it right here—make you howl like a dog!”
He then shouted in a muffled mustache-mewing tone, “Fuck you whore!”
She was up to that challenge as well, and shouted, “Whip it out motherfucker—better strap a two-by-four to your ass!”
Mister Clean’s expression turned to one of horror as he backed up, nearly stepping on a scurrying nina, and the rough looking woman with the dirty blonde curls that hung barely past her ears, sneered, “Needle dick motherfucker. Go home to Mom and fuck her before I tax your ugly ass!”
I was now trying not to laugh out loud and looked at the Mexican lady, who, along with her kids, was staring wide-eyed at this verbal battle of the giants. She had a slight smile on her face and I answered the unspoken accusation with a shaken head and a whisper, “Me no gringo.”
She burst into laughter and pointed at me as if I had been found guilty and walked off with her children in the wake of Mister Clean, who was storming out the door with arms flexed out to the side, not having bothered to purchase his Haagan Daz. The older woman was now quietly admonishing the younger woman, who could have been a daughter or niece, and was now chewing on the plastic spoon that had been left on the register belt. The younger woman, who I noticed had some fading tattoos on her forearms as she placed the groceries on the belt, comforted her elder with words that I would not have ever imagined hearing in public, “Ain’t a thing to worry about. I could pull a train, roll out of bed, and still beat his ass!”
She then turned to me, pulled the spoon out and pointed at the ice cream indicating that I should ring it up as part of her order, and smiled like Mary Poppins with a missing upper incisor. “How are you doing this morning baby?”
“Fine Miss. You?”
“Nothing a six-pack won’t cure.”
Of all the alien planets I’ve gotten sucked into through the numerous retail food portals that link the multiverse, that might have been the strangest. I wanted to use that story for fiction. But was afraid that people would think I was some kind of sicko with violent sexual fantasies. So I wrote the lady with the fading tattoos and missing tooth out, and just kept Mister Clean and exchanged myself for a meat-headed male lead based on a fighter I used to train and surrounded him with quirky coworkers out of my past, making this a case of truth being stranger than fiction.
Say what you will, Mister Clean, and whoever she aggressively was, were not wimpy whining white people.
LMAO! If they ever bring back "The Wire", they definately should include a supermarket segment...
...But seriously folks...this incident brings to light a problem confronting our society: many of our traditional insults and vituperations have become obsolete. They are no longer insulting. Consider that our conventional vulgarities, insults and curses generally consist either of accusing the target of abuse of having enaged in acts of sexual perversion or suggesting that they do so now. Acts once considered to be shameful and repulsive. However, now all these same sexual perversions have since become mainstreamed into valid life style choices. They not only are no longer shameful and repulsive, but instead they have become accepted, even admired in many quarters. Thus if you tell someone "suck my ass", you might find that, rather than being repulsed, that person might actually want to suck your ass. Then what? Then you will be forced to contemplate whether or not you really want to come into close bodily contact with such a person, like the unfortunate "Mr. Clean" was. What will your retort be? "OK well now you can't suck my ass, so there!" One can see how this could really become problematic over time. On the other hand, our current dominant politically correct culture has created situations where people now take offense to remarks that were formerly considered to be highly complimentary. Therefore, if Mr. Clean really wanted to piss off the younger woman, then perhaps he should have complimented her looks and suggested that he had no doubt judging by her appearance that she was helpful and obedient to her husband and a good mother to her children.
You're a genius man.
You know, Mister Clean did decline to get physical—even left his comfort food behind. As nasty as he was I've got to give him some credit. Honestly she frightened me. Seriously, I could imagine her running a criminal gang as a Ma Barker type—or that role Angie Dickenson played when William Shatner managed to get his hands on her in a nude scene.
Oh, my conservative-republic-black-NASCAR fan babe Ajay asked me, "Where were all of the loud black people? What did they think?"
Well, it was before 11:30 a.m., after which black republicans are already long at work and black democrats are just rolling out of bed.