Hey Buddy, you have eleven items on the check out belt. Can't you read? It says clearly... very clearly... ten items or less.
Yes, can you count? Do you see that I have a pair of chicken legs. That has got to count as one. One chicken. One. Got it. One.
No way, Buddy. An item is an item. And my meter is running. You want to pick up your stuff or you want to see what this fist feels like on your fat face.
Hey, the manager saw what I had in my cart and told me to get in this line. He obviously knows that chickens have two legs.
Just like people are supposed to have one brain? Maybe the manager needs to go back to school as well.
Oh, here he comes now.
What's up boys?
Didn't you tell me to get in this line?
Why yes, I did.
Hey, Mr. Boss, can't you count? He has eleven items. What are rules for? What are laws for? Why did I fight in your damn blasted war? Why do I carry this piece?
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Can we sum that up as: "Don't sweat the small stuff." H.
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