It slices, it dices, it will sodomize your soul

I am the bastard son of an already bastardized age. The ghost of Billy Mays hangs the sword of Damocles over my head in this Fort Myer’s BJ’s supercenter. I find myself all at once standing in awe, dumb struck and, left with a feeling I can only compare with what I assume a sex crime victim would note as recurring gag syndrome. This best explained by my depraved mind as the random and, debilitating feeling of choking on your attacker’s secretions experienced by rape victims.

I stare blankly as the hillbillies and, housewives nod in agreement over whether or not it is a phenomenal deal to be able to cut onions in so many ways without crying. Rather ironically I’m finding myself fighting back the urge to cry just listening ton this man heroically sell this vacant idea to me, this half truth.

Now, there is a part of me that fully recognizes the item he is attempting to whore to me is no more than a pimped out mandolin. I find myself helpless though awash in consumerism. I’ve never actually taken part in an item demo before and, this feeling of being in a live action infomercial is both exciting and repulsive. The bonus being the promise of my guaranteed ” gift ” at the end of this atrocity.

By this pointy you should know there is no point to any of this I’m just expelling my feelings to the interwebs. So my demo concludes with me learning how to make ” the best salads I will have ever had in my entire life ” and, ” the crispist onion rings ” all regardless of the actual quality of the food but merely based on the merit of the cut alone.

A special sort of trauma underwhelms me. I feel empty not able to afford this god machine. I feel dirty for wishing I could. I turn walk away with my free gift, an all purpose peeler. Most likely acquired in any dollar tree.

Today, I was one with the machine.

-niveknatnof

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