Out of spite

This was totally one of those times when people don't know who they're messing with...

Bubba and I went out to buy a case of wine (this doesn't really need explanation does it?) and while we were making the short walk from car to shop, we passed a new store.

A CANDY one.

Like, a real candy shop. One that was certainly fashioned after the one in the Willy Wonka movie. And I don't just think that because they were playing the movie on a flat screen at the back of the store and because the whole store was a near replica of the candy shop from the movie. No, I came up with that parallel all on my own.

After we bought our case of wine (first things first, people) and stowed it safely in the truck, Bubba followed me back to the candy shop so I could *look around*.

And look around I did - with my camera. Because, hello, I'm who am I am and that is a person who takes a lot LOT of pictures. So, there I was, in this fanciful store, enjoying the impressive and colorful array of every candy known to man, having a grand old time pretending to be the proverbial Kid in Candy Store when I heard a meek pre-teen countergirl voice twittering to Bubba to the tune of, "You can't take pictures in here.", or some such nonsense.

To which I heard Bubba reply (while I slyly continued taking photos), "So, should I tell her or would you like to?" In a tone one might describe as cautionary with a hint of knowing fear.

It was at this point that I chose to holster my weapon and gaze coldly at the countertwit.

Me: Am I not to be taking photos?

Twit: We're not really supposed to let people, no.

Me: Huh. That seems retarded.

Twit: Silence

Me (to Bubba): Doesn't that seem retarded.

Bubba: Yeah, they clearly don't know who they're dealing with.

Me: Obviously. Now let's try some of this alledged gelato and look for my RingPops already.

Bubba: Good idea.

And it was too, bad, too because I was just starting to write a very different post in my head which went something like, "This new candy shop is a haven and filling a void in my soul.", but because it's me and I'm sensitive to things like 12 year olds telling me what to do, my post is taking more of a "Fuck 12 year old twits trying to be The Man in my new candy store and I'll do what I want because don't you know WHO I AM?" kind of tone.

Who am I, you ask? Probably not anyone they should really be worried about, honestly - but at the time, I *knew* I could take down the whole chain if I *really* wanted to. I had Milton strength.

Instead I ordered a little cup of mint chip gelato (Excuse me Senor, but I said no chunks in my gelato, NO chunks. But it had chunks in it, big chunks of chocolate, floating in the gelato.) and went about my hunt for the ever elusive RingPops.


Now I'm no certified gelato expert or anything, but I don't suspect my gelato was authentic given the giant chunks of chocolate jammed right in it. Granted, it wasn't bad - for ice cream - but it wasn't gelato. Not that heavenly pure flavor that you get with good gelato. But it came in a cute cup, which nearly sliced off my tongue when I went to retrieve an errant drip and a swirly cookie deal that was actually the highlight of the experience. Not that I won't go back and try other flavors, but I'm just saying - soft ice cream is not the same as gelato.


Meanwhile, I found my blessed RingPops and will be returning to collect them so I can fill out my jewelry collection like a proper four year old. Plus, I need to get Bubba some candy cat poo, bubble gum cigars and Toxic sour trash cans because that is what gets him going.

Here's a collage of the Illicit Photos. If I end up in the clink, I'll thank you to come bail me out.