Spatula sketch

Reaches into purse...after a few ingredients, pulls out a burned spatula.

I bring you this burned spatula. It always burns in the same place...right along the neck. Third degree burns from the looks of it, most recently from making blue pancakes. Why blue? Not enough yellow to make green.

I like suspense... little surprises. It's burned, but it hasn't snapped yet and what better place to snap a spatula than right here with you. Just a moment please.

(snaps spatula)

Ok. Didn't snap. That was surprising. My Tae Kwon Do's a bit rusty. You were excited. There was tension...expectation...and....that's it...you can go home now...tension and expectation...better than nothing. Utterly climactic.

Then again, not all is lost. Still in one piece. I can give it to my sister for Christmas. I give as good as I get. Wash it first ofcourse. It's been places. Paint over the burn. What did she give me last year? Was it not discount panties? A fortnight's worth of panties in two parts....There was a five pack of ahh....how do you say...period pants...very plain. Black cotton--no pattern...hides everything...beyond non-descript. And then a few obtuse triangles of lace strung together in a sweat shop by someone making 1000 panties a day. Irregular uninspired ill-fitting up the ass polyester.

Sexy panties from your boyfriend? Yes.
Sexy panties from your sister who you see once a year and get on with for about three minutes? No. Not the crotch cover I'm looking for.

So. I took them back. I don't like something riding up my ass all day reminding me of my sister. They were irregular. It would be alright if my clit was off to the side, but actually it's straight up and down. I think the seamstress was falling asleep when she made these. And when my sister found them, she was obviously jumping for joy...as.

The line was long. So I started guessing about how much I'd get once I returned them. Ten pair...five pack maybe five dollars. The lacey ones...ten dollars. Ok. Fifteen dollars. That's three trips to Taco Bell. ...or Some Aveda hair gel.

It's my turn. The woman beeps the barcode. (In Midwestern accent) I'm afraid you can't return these. They were on discount. Seven pairs at 30 cents....two dollars ten. Three pair for a dollar...and the five paaaaaack....was discontinued so no return on thaaaayaaat.

Two dollars ten? Not the taco I was looking for. Uhhm. Are you sure? I thought you could return everything to this store. Can you check again?

Woman goes in the back to ....whatever with the panties...comes back.

Uh uhhhm... Madam. I'm afraid I think you've worn these panties. We don't take back worn panties at all.

What was she doing back there? Sniffing them? Holding them up to the light? Isn't that beyond her job description? Does she know how much you can get for worn panties these days? I just added value to them. Did I wear them? Well. I tried them on.

I'm afraid that trying them on constitutes wearing them maam.

It was a rather deflating experience. She had her finger poised on the security alarm ready to alert the guards of an irrate customer. But I surprised and just said...I hope you've had a nice day.