I hate how some people lie about what they do for a living. My job isn’t that impressive, but I have no problem telling others about it. I’m the head cashier at a Thrifty Drugstore.
“But, Smivey,” you say, “Thrifty doesn’t exist anymore.” Yeah, that’s what they want you to believe. But the truth is, there’s still one in Arizona, hundreds of feet below the Earth’s surface. It’s all part of a giant underground city designed to protect one person. Yeah, that’s right. I work at the President’s Thrifty.
“But why does the President need a drugstore?”
Jeeze, imaginary reader, you are so fucking inquisitive today. I’l tell you why. What if he cuts his finger? Where the hell is he gonna get a bandage? He’d bleed to death, and then where would we be? Uh huh. And what if he gets a craving for some honey-roasted almonds? That would be bothering him all day and he wouldn’t be able to concentrate on saving the world and shit. More importantly, what if he wanted a cylindrical scoop of Thrifty chocolate chip ice cream? There’s nowhere else in the world that he could possibly get that. OK, except for Rite-Aid. Those motherfuckers. But where do you think Rite-Aid gets their Thrifty ice cream?
Yeah, that’s right. We make the Thrifty ice cream down here. Otherwise, it would be pretty boring. Occasionally, a diplomat will stop by for an Abazaba or a Coke. But otherwise, we just hang out here, making ice cream and taking turns singing over the PA system. Oh, and we also process the President’s film. Man, you would not believe the kind of shit that guy and the First Lady are into. Creepy.
One time, we selected a particularly raunchy photo of Dubbya and Laura and created this enourmous banner to surprise the Commander In Chief when he arrived. Of course, we never thought that he might show up with his mom and dad. Boy, that was an awkward moment. It took us over an hour to find the ladder and pull the banner down. Barbara Bush immediately covered her eyes, while the former President couldn’t help but stare at the image. I was pretty busy yelling at people, but I swear I saw Bush Senior give his son a thumbs-up for a job well done. We all almost got fired over that. But then I offered everyone free triple scoops. By the time everyone had devoured their ice cream, all was forgiven.
But, yeah, that’s the way it is down here at the President’s Thrifty. So why do I bother staying? Well, it’s kind of a top-secret place, ya know? I mean, people have quit their jobs here. But after that, we never hear from them again. I’m not saying that they got killed by the CIA or anything like that, but I wouldn’t put it past them. Anyhow, it just kind of makes me think twice about looking for a new place of employment. Besides, we’re all looking forward to the next roll of film Bush Jr. sends over here for processing. I just hope nobody tells him about the advantages of digital photography. That would really suck. Which reminds me of the next photo we’re making a banner out of. Wow, Laura Bush. Who woulda thought.
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