Yesterday I visited our new Ikea store to return a bunch of shit when I broke down and decided to buy one of their cinnamon rolls on my way out. They pretty much pump that scent directly into your brain, and they’re only a dollar. Plus, I hadn’t had a cinnamon roll in forever, so GET OFF MY BACK, OKAY?
I took one delicious bite of the cinnamon roll (which was still warm from the oven) and stepped onto the escalator to leave- when blunder of blunders- I dropped it! I watched it tumble onto the dirty metal teeth, which began to gnash at my treat. It was very sad, especially since I had just eaten one bite. Had I not tasted it first, I would have probably been okay about this. Since I am not some sort of human pig I picked up the remains with the waxed paper to throw them away.
Flash forward five minutes later. I’m sitting in my car, and there is no cinnamon roll. But there is the waxed paper. And I am confident there is no trash can between myself and the escalator. What just happened? There’s only one explanation.
The high-ups in my brain held an emergency session as soon as that cinnamon roll hit the escalator.
“We need this,” they decided unanimously, and called down to Geoffrey in memory.
“Geoffrey, it’s Stephens up top. We need a five minute memory blackout, starting right now.”
Geoffrey is taken aback. “Um, blackouts are generally reserved for emergencies, and traumatic events, like the ‘Summer Camp ’83 incident’.
“GEOFFREY! This is an emergency. Just do it or we’ll drown you in whisky again later tonight. Give you some shit to unravel all day tomorrow.”
And so Geoffrey flipped the switch and I gobbled that cinnamon roll up like a very real human pig. As I drove away, I realized that of all the food items to drop on a public escalator, a warm, sticky cinnamon roll is undoubtably the worst. It’s like dropping food tape on the floor. I was just waiting to burp up a cigarette butt.
So here’s to you, Geoffrey, for doing your job. And I’m sorry I drowned you in whisky anyway.