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| "AMERICA'S FUNNIEST HUMOR"TM
SHOWCASE
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August /
September 2006 Contest Results |
Doing
Battle
By Wayne Scheer,
Georgia
"When did barbers become hair stylists?" I asked my wife as she
planned how I would spend my Saturday.
"Oh, about the same time you bought that shirt you're wearing."
"What's wrong with this shirt? It still fits and it's only frayed on the
bottom."
I could see her considering what she was about to say, but the words
spilled out anyway. "They don't wear madras plaids anymore."
"And just who are 'they?'"
And I was off! I was into my favorite tirade about how we pay more
attention to "them" than to ourselves, quoting Thoreau and Homer
Simpson in the same breath.
She kissed me on the lips. "You made your point. But you're still going
clothes shopping today and taking a haircut."
First stop was a well-known, mid-priced retail outlet. Vickie chose it
because they emphasized clearance sales rather than designer labels. She
also had a 10% off coupon. "And don't forget to use American Express so
we get frequent flyer miles," she told me.
Armed with such essential strategic intelligence, I was ready to do
battle.
Vickie, a bright woman, prepared her escape. "I need to pick up a few
things. I'll be back in an hour."
"An hour? I'll be finished in ten minutes. All I need are two pairs of
pants and a couple of shirts."
"Try the pants on this time."
I offered no response. My mind was focused on the mission. Looking
around the men's clothing section, I spied racks of pants and shirts and
mannequins of smiling young men in bright yellow sweaters. My heart
raced. "I can do this," I whispered.
Carefully avoiding the more expensive looking clothing, I made my way to
a rack of pants with a sign that read 33% off. Although some of the
pants displayed outrageous designs and colors worn only by used car
salesmen and teenage boys determined to annoy their fathers, I found
what I was looking for with relative ease: a simple pair of black
slacks.
I checked the sizes and found mine. The price read $34. But with 33%
off, that comes to…damn! They charge odd amounts so you can't figure out
how much you really pay. Let's see: a third of $34 is about $11 dollars
off, so that's about $23 and I have the 10% off coupon so I should
subtract another $2.30, but tax is probably on the original $34 …
I grabbed the pants and folded it on my arm. Good enough. One down. Now
I need a pair of jeans. That should be easy.
But spying the variety of jeans with designer names, I nearly turned and
ran. The jeans were displayed in various shades of blue, black, gray,
brown and even green. Some were pre-faded and some claimed they were
stone-washed, whatever that meant. Some were straight-legged and others
were pleated. Pleated jeans, for crying out loud! I felt disoriented
until I finally found a familiar pair of dark blue Levi's in my size.
That was close. Okay, a couple of shirts and I'm out of here.
To my surprise, shirts weren't bad. Everything goes with your basic
black slacks and blue jeans. I impressed myself with my fashion sense.
As I prepared my escape from behind enemy lines, I heard Vickie's
warning: "Try the pants on this time."
Spotting a dressing room near the suits, I said aloud, "I'm going back
in," frightening a young woman standing nearby.
The jeans fit fine but the slacks were tight. They're both 36/30. How
can that be? It's a trick. They want me to go back and buy more clothes.
I left the black pants in the dressing room and took the remaining
clothing to the checkout counter. I displayed my 10% off coupon and paid
with my American Express card. Mission accomplished.
"Did you get everything you need?" Vickie asked.
"Almost. I had to leave one behind. It was tough, but I'm ready to go
home."
"Not so fast. You need a haircut, soldier."
"I'll get one under one condition." I figured this would stump her.
"If the shop has a red and white striped pole on the outside."
"I know just the place," she said, parking in front of what looked
like an old-fashioned barbershop, complete with the requisite barber's
pole in front. The sign in the window read, "Hair Extraordinaire: Stylings
by Max."
"Noooooooo," I whimpered.
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