An Open Letter

Dear Dude From the Grocery Store Last Night,

Dude. Seriously. You had 40 items in the 10 items or less lane. Not only that, but your 40 items were all booze or fruit that had to be individually weighed. Do you understand how close you came to death? Seriously, go back in time and look at that check out dude's face. That look? Was rage my friend. Didn't you see how that vein in his head throbbed when you started to argue about the price on limes? Or when you said 'oh crap! hold on!' and then sauntered off SLOWLY to go pick up a single lemon? I believe it was at that moment the bagger started sharpening his knife. But the closest you came to death was when you paid by check. Checks that you, from all appearances, you had never had to fill out before. Who doesn't know they have to date or sign checks? WHO? You my friend, you... aka the person that I am going to hunt down. Hunt. With a bow and arrow because that's hardcore, just like my hatred for you.

Hugs and Kisses,
Me