Sunday, November 11, 2012

Noodle-Armed Demon of Spite (I want to punch me in the face for this)

I just ran out of justice tampons, so I guess I'll have to buy the regular kind now.

The tampons originally came from a fancy resort where my parents were doing a puppet show. If you're a performer, the resort doesn't pay that well in dollars, but it does pay pretty well in time at the resort. You get treated just like a paying guest, so when you fill one of their kayaks with blackberries and then eat the whole kayak, you may get a bit of side-eye from the management, but they certainly don't stop you.

Only this time I didn't get treated exactly like all the other guests. I wanted to go to this arm workout class because sometimes I feel bad about having a set of flaccid noodles instead of arms, but the guard lady turned me away at the door.
Only paying guests,” she said.

And the tiny, spiteful, noodle-armed demon in my head threw a tantrum. “You said we'd get treated just like paying guests! YOU SAID!”
I managed to quash all external signs of my demon-tantrum in front of the guard, but 11.6 seconds later I discovered that every single bathroom in the resort was equipped with a miniature treasure box full of tampons.
In the third bathroom I visited, an old lady caught me scooping double fistfulls of tampons from the treasure box.
She fixed me with a withering glare.
I stared her right back, all aglow with righteousness.
It's for justice,” I said.

Oddly, her expression didn't change much after that. I don't think she got it. But Hitler used to be legal in the past so I guess I shouldn't expect old people to understand justice.

Hm. Reading about the situation now, it seems entirely possible that I've been using spite tampons for the last several months instead of justice tampons. Oh well. I'm more than a quarter century old. You can't expect me to understand justice.


  1. "... I guess I shouldn't expect old people to understand justice."
    Two days ago Joe asked the young woman working at McDonalds for a cup of hot water (in addition to 2 cups of coffee). The woman asked the manager what to do and the manager snarled, "charge 'em for a coffee." We left that McDonalds with lots and lots of justice-creamers. Guess we're not so old then!

    1. Ha! Now I kind of want to hoard hot water for you the way I gather packets of instant coffee, but I don't think that would work quite as well.