Just when I thought it was bad enough that I had to fight my way through roving gangs of feral Girl Scouts hawking their crack-laced cookies at supermarkets.
"Can I help you?"
The little kid (who was clearly puntable in case he came at me with his clipboard) asked if I wanted to buy a tin of popcorn... for TEN DOLLARS.
Ok, I was thinking those gargantuan-sized Costco tins that can fit one or two little boy scouts, so I figured, what the hey and marked myself down for one... then clearly by the look of utter expectation, I surmised that he needed the money up front, then I would have to wait months for the carmelly goodness, no doubt mass produced by children his age in some foreign country sweat shop. FINE, I go get my wallet and discover I only have a freakin 20. Guessing that the future Bill Gates of carmel corn doesn't have change, I decide to be all nice and put myself down for two of the stupid buckets of popcorn. He grabbed the money and ran.
It was only after I got back inside that I realized that I was in full "weekend mode"
cafe press), and insane hair.
A few days go by and there's another tap on the door... its the scout, out of uniform, holding two of the tiniest little tins of carmel corn I had ever seen. We're talking TINY, itty bitty. Not nearly $20 bucks worth of anything in those tins... not even GOLD and we all know how much that is now. He literally throws the tins at me (even though I'm wearing normal public clothes because I just got home from work).
The next day I take one of the ridiculously tiny tins to work to snack on. Just as I suspected, its loaded with crack, and now I'm cruising the neighborhood looking for the little brat with my entire life's savings for another fix.