I am going to tell you a story.
Once upon a time--that is, yesterday--there was a man. Obviously this man existed before yesterday, or he would be a baby, not a man. But he existed yesterday as well, and so that's where we'll start.
This man, named Billy Bob, was a clerk in a store. A cashier, if you will. One of the guys at the front desk who checks out your items. Yes. One of those guys.
One fine day (yesterday, as we've already established), Billy Bob was at his station, happily scanning a jar of pickled prunes for an old lady and her three cats, when he realized something--the store didn't allow pets.
Billy Bob frowned. How did she get in here with them, then? he wondered. He was about to ask her how she got in with them, why on earth did she bring them, and could she not do it again, when the old lady gave him the most deathful death glare he ever saw, and hit him over the head with her umbrella/cane.
At this assault, Billy Bob collapsed to the floor of his checkout station. Being hit with a plaid umbrella was one thing, but he simply couldn't handle it when people gave him deathful death glares.
Timidly, he reached his hand up above the counter, holding her receipt in shaking fingers. There was a hmph, and the receipt was snatched aggressively out of his hand.
Billy Bob waited a moment, then poked his head up, peering over the counter. Phew! he thought, She's gone. Gathering his courage, Billy Bob jumped up onto the counter and yelled at the door, "MAY YOUR TOILET SUFFER THE WRATH OF A THOUSAND SUNS!!"
Billy Bob stood triumphant on his pedestal of clerical power, surrounded by the startled faces of his coworkers (except for Jim the janitor, who could care less about life in general). Suddenly, a plaid umbrella came flying from out of nowhere, and hit him in the face. Billy Bob fell to the floor again with a giant THUMP, and a flurry of receipt paper.
Jim shuffled by, pushing his broom. He stopped briefly to look at Billy Bob, lying akimbo as he was, then shuffled on, muttering to himself about all the cat hair and receipts he'd have to clean up.
Billy Bob watched him go through the socks that covered his face. He had no idea where they'd come from, this was a grocery store, and they didn't stock socks. (try saying that three times fast.)
So he did. "Stock socks stokc sotck shtockshock blueberries." Billy Bob blinked, wet his lips, and was about to try again when a metric ton of confetti fell from the ceiling, and four robbers burst in, guns blazing.
Well, that's the end of part uno of my totally random, unplanned, I-have-no-idea-where-this-is-going story! :D Hope you liked, because it'll be back. . . . ;)