i only wear white when it rains

If I end up sliced into little pieces and stuffed inside a tackle box, look for this guy in the line-up.

Despite the three open lanes at Target this morning and the fact that I had 800 items to his two (a pair of Wranglers and a jar of something I can only imagine is knife polish), he still got in line behind me staring with his mouth open like Chilly Willy salivating at a hotdog oasis.

It could be a simple case of inbreeding coupled with my hyperbolic disorder, but it’s better to be safe than a moisturized size eight.