Judging A Car By Its Bumper Sticker

Image from Gothamist.com

Image from Gothamist.com

“Honey, I’m just gonna go down here a sec, I’ll meet up with you in the frozen aisle.”
“Okay, Dave.”
“…Hmm, bumper stickers? Let’s see: ‘Don’t tread on me.’ Geez, people still use that? Oh, look: ‘1/20/09: An end of an error.’ Ha! That brings me back. Hey, what’s this–oh my god, that’s just…wrong. Who would buy a bumper sticker like–hmm, really?”
“Sweetie, I just saw the greatest special on–Jesus, David, why are you holding bumper stickers of Klansmen lynching Barack Obama!?”
“Helen, calm down! It’s okay, I just saw them, and–”
“We’re not getting them! Put them back!”
“But, hon, they’re only a dime apiece.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Look.”
“Wow. We can get enough to cover up the holes in the camper.”
That’s what I was thinking!”
“Oh…but what would our friends think?”
“We’ll just tell ’em your Aunt Charisse gave them to us as a gift. And we put them there so she wouldn’t feel bad. You know how she is.”
“Yeah. That could work.”
“We’ll just…go through self-checkout. Avoid the looks.”
“Good idea.”
“Oh, what were you saying, doll?”
“Yeah! I found a whole shelf of lemon juice a week past date. The stockboy is gonna mark it down to twenty-five cents a bottle.”
“Nice!”

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