Calling Saw Palmetto

I have been standing in line in this cavernous shopping center for more than three weeks now and I am sure of two things; management makes all employees take Quaaludes and Saw Palmetto is proof there is God, else I would have been to the bathroom 30 to 40 times by now.

Actually, I think Saw Palmetto would be the perfect name for someone in, say, a movie like the Godfather. Can’t you hear the lines now? Yo, asshole, you ain’t got the money? we call in Saw Palmetto and it’s bye-bye knees. You pickin’ up what I’m puttin’ down here?

Rhode Island could fit in this store with room to spare it’s so big. And there are employees everywhere, or else wearing blue smocks with name tags are in fashion and I’m more confused than I think I am anyway.

Now the couple before me is finally unloading their five carts worth of items for the cashier to ring up. But, there’s a problem with the bread.

The husband is holding up two loaves of bread for the cashier to see, one in each hand. “You got any idea how many slices in these?”

The cashier: “What?”

The wife: “We want to know how many slices.”

The cashier: “Should say on the bag.”

All three scrutinize the loaves of bread.

The husband: “Don’t say shit.”

The wife: “How do we know which loaf has more slices?”

The cashier: “Which one’s heavier?”

Now I want to call Saw Palmetto. Bye-Bye knees.
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