You Will Never Change Someone's Mind

Pejorative statements such as "SportsClips isn't a bar" have long gotten under the theoretical skin of my being. You would think after many moons inhabiting this planet that mortals would learn they are in fact inconsequential and merely a droplet in the ocean of life. Imposing your zany hypotheses upon those grounded within their own ideals is as if you are taking a piss upon a wildfire thinking you will be the hero to save the day.  

Every time I have been to Cynthia for the MVP treatment ending in a vigorous handful of American Crew hair gel at the local SportsClips, it ends with pleasantries and a look of disappointment as i've finished my 3rd Strawberry Daiquiri. Now i've been discouraged from bringing my NutriBullet within the confines of the establishment but at the same time, we live in a free country and I will never stop. 

The workers snicker and laugh as I spew the rhetoric of internet commenters from the depths of subreddits on topics from foreign policy to DIY oil changes, which tickle my fancy. Cynthia, recently hired from the grooming section of Petsmart, often seems apprehensive and holds back from commenting whilst giving me a #2, finger length on top. But i'm always sure to finance her for the strain with a responsible yet audacious 22% tip. However, recently, Benjamin, the newest part time employee responsible for making sure the neck towels stay at a piping 101º Fahrenheit, has begin to pipe in. Now because I am superior and can clearly comprehend things in which he could only dream to understand, I let him talk but internally I laugh maniacally as this minimum wage puppet dances the tales of the falsehoods he's forever been spewed. 

I've long been of the opinion that because I am thinking within my own head, I am special and function on another level from the rest of society. So when Benjamin offers his unprovoked outlook upon things, it requires all vigor within me to remain calm as I hear the lies and garbage coming from this sheep's muzzle. 

I don't say anything, he believes he's gotten the best of me. Little does he know, I love the taste of blood. Getting punched within the confines of a bar is nothing new to me, figuratively or literally, I live for this moment. 

Before I leave, I politely ask to use the restroom. Cynthia, the sweetheart that she is obliges with generosity, as a mother of 2 teenage boys she knows how temperamental the male bladder can be. I quickly scamper past the water cooler, blender in hand, making my way to the 3rd door on the left, passing the massage room and supply closet. I kill roughly 3 minutes and 27 seconds in the little boys room, as to not raise any suspicion. On the way out, I set my sights upon the towel fridge and with the steady hand of a gastroenterologist, I quickly disengage plug from socket, rendering Benjamin helpless. 

The professionals within the establishment gander upon me unaware of the burden I've lifted from their shoulders as I walk out, striped gown and all. Benjamin will be gone soon and for that, society will be a safer place. 

via GIPHY