An inconvenient store

I walked into a questionable-looking convenience store the other day because I had to get gas, and since I was dying of thirst, I decided to go inside and get something to drink.

I don’t like these places because they always smell like a cheap car air-freshener, and I don’t enjoy dealing with people through bulletproof glass who barely speak English and call me “boss.”

But sometimes, even if I’m in a sketchy part of town, the lure of a canned soft drink and delicious Little Debbie snack cake is impossible to ignore, so I pull into the parking lot, tell the urban campers that I don’t have any change, and step inside.

This particular convenience store was especially seedy. Right by the cash register there was a magazine rack, carrying some interesting titles. The one that caught my eye was “Big Black Butts.” I have to tell you, I had no idea there was such a publication before this.

I began to wonder what you found inside such a magazine. Pictures of big black butts, I suppose. But what else? Are there articles, advice columns, workout routines? Is there a “Big White Butts” magazine? I have a lot of questions about this.

But I wasn’t curious enough to actually buy a copy. I’m surprised, in this era of DVDs and the Internet, that there is actually still a market for dirty magazines. Who exactly would buy “Big Black Butts,” other than maybe Sir Mix-a-Lot?

There’s a Kangaroo store near my house, but I try not to go in there if I can help it. A clerk got shot and killed there one night a few years ago by two sub-humans from a neighboring county. There’s a woman who works there now who is at least 60 years old, and both of her arms are covered with tattoos. Think about this, young people, when you decide to go get yourself all tatted up. You’re going to get old one day, and nobody wants to see a grandma who looks like she just got out of prison.

Don’t you hate getting stuck in line at the convenience store behind a degenerate buying a fistful of lottery tickets? Listen, Cletus. You’re not going to win. And even if you do, within two years you’ll be broke again and asking me for money in the parking lot so you can go buy a dirty magazine. Do us all a favor and spend that $10 on a toothbrush and some floss.

I guess I have a love-hate relationship with convenience stores. As unpleasant as it can be, I am right now feeling the urge to pull over somewhere on the way home and go spend $5 unnecessarily, just because I can. I like Little Debbies, and I cannot lie....