Honor Thy Fossils

Have you ever had a craving for something hit you so bad you couldn’t contain it? It could be something like food, a particular song or your crush’s attention (not that I would know). I’m sure it’s happened to everybody at one point or another in their life. On this particular occasion, a friend had sent me a picture of her and some of her friends at an event from the previous weekend. As I was zooming in on the picture for completely insignificant reasons, I saw a guy in the background holding a Red Bull. That’s when said craving hit me. I suddenly became thirsty, and I felt Red Bull was what I needed. I immediately got up, put on some shoes and left the house to go to the supermarket to get one. The supermarket’s a short distance from where I live. I could have taken a bus and been there in three minutes, but I’m stingy with my money so I decided to walk there in twenty minutes.

I got there just fine, got my Red Bull then proceeded to go pay for it. There was a long queue for every cashier so I just got into the one that was shortest. Unfortunately, I had failed to notice that in this short queue was a lady who had bought almost everything in the supermarket. The obvious solution would be to leave the queue and join another one, but everybody knows that whichever queue you join will automatically become the slowest-moving one, because reasons. And because luck was on my side, I just happened to be in a queue with someone I assume is the world’s most annoying person.

The keyword is assume.
The keyword is assume.

I could hear him scoff behind me a couple of times. He was doing it so much I had to turn around and see what he had so much distaste for. And then I found out that I was the one he was jeering at. Then he started talking to me without warning. He was complaining about how rotten today’s kids are. He started by saying that I was dressed inappropriately. That was followed by him giving reasons behind why the unkempt hair peeking out of the edges of my hat are proof that I belong to a certain group of ruthless murderers. Then he said no person of my age should be outside at that time of night – that I was probably on a break from beheading people. At this point, he was not so much speaking to me as he was making a public announcement on how my generation has failed in everything. I didn’t get too angry about it, because I’m used to hearing most of his ramblings from other people. I just took out my phone and started texting. The man said that I’m disrespectful because I’m not looking at him when he’s addressing me.

Then I got mad.

I want to get a few things straight. First of all, I wasn’t dressed inappropriately. I think a basketball vest, jeans and sneakers is a perfectly fine outfit for a warm night. I wasn’t going for dinner with the President or anything that important. I was just going to get a Red Bull. And I’ve worked on these arms too much to hide them under sleeves, thank you very much. Second, why would he want me to comb my hair for a trip to the supermarket at night? And just because I have messy hair doesn’t mean I’m out all night shooting everybody over land. That’s a stupid thing to think. And I wonder what age this man thought I was when he said I couldn’t be out at 8 p.m. Also, I don’t make direct eye contact unless I’m declaring my undying love or trying to win a staring contest.

Fun fact: you can win a staring contest by declaring your undying love. Trust me. It works.

Now, respect. I find it difficult to respect someone based solely on the fact that their age is higher than mine. Why should I? That’s not enough to warrant special treatment. I can’t hold you in high regard simply because you were expelled from a human body before I was. You had no hand in that. Respect doesn’t work that way. For you to assume that I’ll hold you in high regard simply because you got yanked from a uterus before I was, you’d have to be out of your senses.

"Enough with the childbirth imagery already."
“Enough with the childbirth imagery already.”

But worry not, elders, where I lack respect I have restraint. This means that I won’t run into you and start randomly shouting out how your wrinkles make you look like a bipedal bulldog. I have just enough self-control to not blurt out the meanest thing I can about you, unlike a certain group of my neighbors. This is mainly because my parents said it’s wrong to do so, but also because I think it’s illegal to yell out obscenities at strangers.

Back to the man in the supermarket. He was still going on about how bad the times have gotten with all these spoilt children running around. Keep in mind that my biggest mistake until then was not having grey hair on my head. The queue was finally moving because the woman with all the groceries had left already. The man had suddenly increased the pace at which he was listing shortcomings of everyone who was born after 1970 because he knew his time was running out. He once mentioned how his father must have been turning in his grave after fighting for the freedom of us ingrates.

I paid for my Red Bull and started walking out of the supermarket and the man began blathering about how I’m going to burn in hell for walking away when he was speaking to me, and how I’d proven beyond doubt how much of a flop my generation is.

Dear reader, if you’ve gotten to this point of the post, you may be feeling dissatisfied. There is a good reason for that. I’ll let you guess from three choices below:

  1. This is a badly titled, terribly one-sided and bitter rant that I farted up in twenty minutes because I forgot today was Wednesday (Arkham Knight just came out yesterday and I’ve been preoccupied).
  2. This is a needlessly-complicated attempt to illustrate a simple saying that pretty much everyone knows already, ‘respect is earned‘.
  3. This is an intricate plot to get you to buy a certain energy drink which is why I started from where I did instead of where the man started talking, even though I could have omitted every detail regarding the drink and still delivered pretty much the same thing.

    *hint*hint*
    *hint*hint*

Now please excuse me as I contact Red Bull GmbH executives to claim royalties for increasing sales by 0.00000000000000000000000000027%.

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