Statistically speaking, that dress does make you look fat.

Posted by Kyle Jacobson , Wednesday, June 16, 2010 3:02 PM

There is almost nothing more intimidating than people who shop at the big and tall store, except for the people who shop at the tiny and sharp-toothed store. Walking down the warehouse floor, double checking to see if I was actually awake and this wasn't one of those dreams that causes you to lose fifteen pounds during the night. Looking back, I could have probably just pinched myself instead of jumping in front of the floor waxer. I continued my promenade to the security desk. The next few seconds were going to change the course of my Everbright© future. A man, comparable to a 1988 Peterbilt 378 flatbed heavy duty truck with semi-automatic transmission, bounced down the hall causing major earthquakes in seventeen different third-world countries. I passed through that two-and-a-half second awkward inner battle (which are pretty frustrating since I never know whether to kill myself or let myself kill myself) where I wonder if I should say "Hi" or lie on the ground and pretend that I'm dead so he won't notice I'm there. Despite my best efforts I said "Hi". Do you know what he did next? Of course not, you weren't there. Why do people even say that while telling a story? He said "hey homeboy." I never felt so honored. This guy was no ordinary guy. He was a down-to-earth, fresh African-American. Word. That historic moment passed and I bit my finger to hold my shouts of uncontrollable excitement. Then for a split second, I wondered why my mouth tasted like iron. Then the thought left and I kept walking. I entered into the room where I always catch the security guards either doing nothing that looks like something or doing something that looks like nothing. The fat one turned white as a ghost and passed out onto his fingerprinting set his mom gave him      when he turned nine. It was quite weird. I turned to face the "I'm too handsome to be handsome" guard.
 He just got this weird look of self-interest as he gandered into my retinas. "Hey!" I shouted, "stop it." He was so entranced that he told the inept-of-any-intelligence-whatsoever truth, "I love myself soooooooooo much.....blub glub flub in a jub." Okay..... If it weren't six in the morning I would have done something about the odd events. It wasn't until later that evening that everything fit together. Turns out that the floor waxer does such a great job that you could literally see your face in mine. That explains a lot. First, the reason "semi-truck" called me homeboy is because I reflected his blackness, the fat-guard finally saw his reflection after refusing to look in the mirror for twenty-one years, and the other guard literally fell in love with himself. Another day, another dime.

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