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No one must know my terrible secret...

House of Noh!

Thursday, October 06, 2005

A couple of days last week the mild-mannered concessionaire who works the register at the Snack 'n Mag sundries store tucked between the columns on the elevator floor of the office building I work in, had three pimp rings on. I buy my snack crackers there.

So when the concessionaire handed me my change, the experience, for me, was all glittering diamond dollar sign pistols and polished onyx and lots and lots of 14 ct. gold, three fingers thick, beyatch.

I noticed the first pimp ring a few weeks ago. Cheese 'n Cheddar sales must have been up that month, because a few weeks after the first, a second pimp ring occurred. The third pimp ring followed less than a week after. But I think that somebody in the building - some fashion-self-righteous, jerk-ass, busy-body - told our concessionaire that three pimp rings were too much. Because this weeks he's back down to two.

I buy a lot of snack crackers at his store. I depend on them sometimes, for days in a row. He opens the store at eight in the morning, closes at six in the afternoon, and doesn't break for lunch, near I can tell. Pimp rings notwithstanding, he's really very meek but pimp rings, I think, are the one thing that get our concessionaire through the day. Damn, why won't society let him wear all the pimp rings he wants!?