1. Today I agreed to travel to the local tennis center to buy tickets for a friend who is out of town. (OK, that's not the part that's assholy.) While there I ran into a friend's husband. He whispered "Hello, Poppy" really softly, so I asked him if he had laryngitis.
Friend: No, I'm doing this for the tennis players.
Poppy: Oh, fuck them--it's not like they're playing golf.
[Pause]
Friend: Where's Mr. Poppy?
Poppy: He's at work. Why aren't you?
2. Then I dropped by the post office to mail a few letters. There was a card table with a lot of crude hand-drawn posters--something about impeaching Cheney--and stacks of literature that someone obviously wanted me to pick up.
Political Dude: Do you like my poster?
Poppy: It's OK. But I never heard of this "Larouche" person, so your organization isn't marketing itself very well.
Political Dude: He's ...
Poppy: That doesn't mean I want you to tell me.
3. Then I headed to the local grocery store. I wanted to buy some hamburger meat. Extra lean. I went and stood next to the meat counter where a white-haired woman picked up package after package of extra lean ground beef. And then put them down again. I didn't know whether she was trying to pick the package that was heaviest, lightest, oldest or youngest. It seemed random. I wait while she shuffled packages around. But not for long.
Poppy [reaching around the woman and grabbing a package of ground beef] Here, let me show you how it's done.
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