So I’m at the comic book store, buying Christmas gifts. Which, to be fair, should tell you the maturity level of everyone involved in this story. Also present were the clerk, and a kid I’d say was around 11 or 12. He wasn’t 13, based on the clerk was telling him which action figures he could not buy because they had guns or cleavage or something.
So the clerk, who while within the parameters of your stereotypical comic book store employee didn’t radiate any particular rays of bitterness or despair, tells the kid, “Don’t grow up. These are the best days of your life.” He then looked to me for backup.
Being an adult rules. I can drive, I can earn my own money, I don’t have to do homework. I can drink and rent a car, although society frowns on doing both at once. Work and taxes are tedious, but certainly no more than high school. Sex is a LOT better now.
Well, okay, fine, I’m forty years old and buying a toy. But that’s the point. Just because you get old doesn’t mean you have to grow up.
Post a Comment