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| Marty Fortier |
Getting mad about magazines
"Are you the manager here?"
"Yes ma'am, what can I do for you?"
"I'll tell you what you can do. You can get these filthy magazines out of the faces of our innocent children. That's what you can do!"
"Uh ... ma'am, that's, uhhh ... Sports Illustrated."
"Oh yeah! And what's the sport, topless clamming with supermodels? I must have missed that one during the last Olympic games!"
"Hey lady, my burrito's getting cold and my Big Gulp is getting warm," shouts a man from the ever-growing and increasingly agitated line at the checkout counter.
"Excuse me ma'am, just let me get to these customers and I'll get right back to you," pleads the manager nervously.
"Good afternoon sir, one bag of chips, batteries, a Toby Keith CD, and two chrome naked lady mud flap ornaments. Will that be all?"
"OK pal, I'm not going to be disregarded like some censorship kook. If you don't get these magazines out of here I'll never patronize this store as long as I live!"
"No offense ma'am, but exactly how often do you shop here at the Flying J truck stop?"
"That's not the point! Look at this, do you really think this is appropriate material for our impressionable kids?"
"Ma'am, that's Fitness Magazine, and the woman on the cover lost 150 pounds, overcame diabetes and fought through asthma to win a national fitness award."
"Fit! Fit for what, a belly-button beauty contest? And look at this piece of trash. What's your excuse for flashing this tripe in front of the innocent eyes of our youth?"
"Well now there I agree with you ma'am. I don't know why we carry Bride Magazine."
"You ... you ..."
"Now excuse me for one second while I help this gentleman. Hi there George, how are the kids doing?"
"Thanks for asking. George Jr. is still recovering from the gunshot; and Lucy, well she's pregnant again, but doin' real well for being on her own. I'll take forty on pump number three and see ya next week."
"Ah-ha! You see? That's what I'm talking about. This filth is driving kids like his to gang violence and unwed motherhood!"
"What? No. George's son is a drug enforcement agent who was wounded last month during a big bust on the border; and his daughter is struggling to raise her family while her husband completes his tour in Iraq."
"Yeah ... well ... I ... uh ... let's get back to the issue at hand. Are you going to get this porno away from my kids or not?"
"Ma'am, that's Women's Health and the cover story is about women who have survived breast cancer."
"AHHHHHH! YOU SAID BREAST! AHHHHH, PERVERT, PERVERT. ARE YOU LOOKING AT MY BREASTS RIGHT NOW YOU PERVERT? AHHHHHH PERVERT! YOU HAVEN'T SEEN THE LAST OF ME PERVERT!
"Great, and I thought she wasn't shopping here any more."
"What was that all about boss?" asked a clerk who was nearly trampled by the angry woman leaving the store.
"I don't really know. But I'm pretty sure that woman would be a lot more relaxed if she cursed every now and again."
Marty Fortier barely escaped a lifetime sentence in the cutthroat world of big city advertising and marketing. He currently operates a business, writes, and referees his children's fights from his home office somewhere in North Idaho. Marty Fortier can be reached at: mbfortier@icehouse.net.
