It's Glass

My wife and I were at Target. We only needed a few items, but even so we went late in the day so the last-minute Christmas shoppers wouldn't trample us.

We got into the checkout line behind two foul-tempered evil little Christmas witches. Their faces looked like Cinderella's wicked step-mother... permanently annoyed at the constant incompetence of others. That, of course, included the checkout guy.

The checkout guy, for his part, looked like he'd been on shift for the last 6 weeks without a break. He was dead on his feet and was less than 5 minutes away from clocking out. We were all obstacles between him and quittin' time. We earned his wrath simply by existing.

He picked up an ornament that the twin crones were purchasing and dropped it into a bag. "HEY!!!", one of them shrieked. "I saw that! Wrap that one up! It's glass!"

The checker guy took the large ball-thing out of the plastic sack. It made dull hollow noises when he tapped it. It looked like a softball with a bird motif. It clearly would have bounced like a basketball if he'd dropped it.

"It's not glass," he insisted. "It's glass!", Foul Fiona shrilled. Checkout guy rolled his eyes, and carefully wrapped up Santa's special wishing ball.

They finally left, and it was our turn. Checkout Guy didn't look at us as if to say, "Thank goodness you two are the last ones for today." Instead, the look in his eyes seemed to say, "If I killed you I could knock off a couple of minutes early. Don't think I haven't considered it."

I decided he needed cheering up. "Be careful with that Charmin," I advised. "It's glass."

Turns out, so is my jaw.

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Note: This will be my last post before Christmas. Quit staring at the internet and go hug someone! Merry Christmas. :)