Doppelgager

Tale as old as time; Sneakors being sneakorsy.  Turns out I is still diabetic. Per my suggested diet I should be drinking water, but anyone who has ever had water knows it sucks.  Good on a hot day for sure, but no flavor to speak of. Normally this is where tea and coffee come in, but after nearly 10 years they is getting old.

Let me introduce you to lemons; garbage fruit for people!  Nice and painful if it gets in your eye. Leaves a tingling sensation if you have too much.  Not really the flavor of choice… But when you hits rock bottom and run out of rocks it turns out theres lemons.

Unfortunately I ran out of lemons on my precious day off.  On the one hand it's such a waste to go out just for lemons, but on the other hand; lemons.  However as a Sneakors I just couldn't just leave tings alone. So Brad gets a series of texts with a picture of my soon to be lemons in the adjacent store.  I tell him to chill out, but right on queue Brad does the exact opposite. Turns out I'm having quite the adventure with my lemon expedition.  

However the obvious hook here is that I am in the wrong store; u knows dis.  The pic is me in the North store while Brad is on the clock near the Central store.  He is excited by his shot at the car and scampering about. Some partial texts about a Camaro and Challenger before silence.  For me this is where the story ends. However u knows I has a habit of delivering chortles with a hilarious conclusion and it would be a shame to disappoint such a cute girl.

Unbeknownst to me Brad has gone all in on this troll.  That pic and those texts; they are life. What took me all of 10 minutes to send him has caused him to invest an hour lunch plus countless hours of thought.  The Brad I am greeted with when I clock in this morning is a man who has seen the world and has had enough of my shit. 'Sneakors, I know your car. You just need to admit to it.'

So turns out right after the pic landed Brad's spastic flails forced a battery into a car and then kicked that car out the door.  He then clocked out, grabbed some food, and ran out to the parking lot to scan for my car. I presume crack addict on crack levels of spaz here.  But I can only speculate. Turns out he saw me. I proceeded to waddle my fat ass from the store to the back of the lot and get into a green Camaro.  For the next 20 hours from this moment Brad would congratulate himself on his absolute victory. And now he’s not spastic or mad. He’s just disappointed I won’t own up to owning a Camaro.