On my way to watch the baby this morning I stopped for a delicious 32 oz vanilla Coke Zero as is my morning habit.
I discovered two things.
1. The vanilla fountain flavor boost was out.
2. A serial killer by the soda fountain.
I knew something wasn't right with this guy from the start. He on a bright pink, orange, and green camo hoodie. And a hat. I don't know if you have been keeping up with the news here in Atlanta but it is the same temperature outside at which I occasionally set my oven. Then this happened.
He smiled a me some weird Hills Have Eyes smile and asked what I was doing in a voice that definitely made me think he had toe pizza for dinner. He had a normal voice with the cashier. The kill me voice was reserved just for, well, me. He waited outside for me. As I walked to my car he commented on my hair bow. He said in his Sloth voice, "That's a pretty ribbon. PEOPLE WITH PRETTY RIBBONS SHOULD BE NICE TO ME!!" Then he just stared at me like he wanted to wear my face as a Halloween mask as I left the lot.
Now this fine upstanding citizen may or may not run into me again. I stop at this particular gas station frequently and usually around the same time. I am, however, pretty sure I will see his toothy, childlike vision of a smile on the evening news in reference to him and his murdering 20 women. 20 women with pretty ribbons.
It's going to be a good day.
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