Day of Deniers: A Story of Angst in a Troubled World. by Lucky One
Monday morning I was posting on USMB, earning my nickels. The phone rings and I answer it. It's the pay tv guy trying to sell me a subscription.
"You mean it's not free?!," I asked astounded. "The government doesn't pay for this?!"
"Well, uh, no sir," he says.
"Then you're denying me! You're a denier!" I shouted, slamming down the phone.
I had already gone through all my sock accounts, so I decided to go out and get some ice cream. I get on my moped and hit the grocery for some Sven and Harry's. I ask the frozen food guy where I can find Green New Deal Lime Sherbet.
"Well, I--uh--well, we don't carry that one." I tell him how dare he deny me the flavor I want.
"You're another denier!"
I hastily exit the grocery and go to another store. From the 3rd row, I see a parking spot in the front row. No sooner do I see it than a little old lady pulls in. I couldn't believe it. It was another denier, this time denying me my parking space.
I go inside the store and guess what? No ice cream! I couldn't believe it. Denialism in the grocery industry.
I decide to cut my losses, so I pick up a 96 ounce bag of pork rinds and 2 cases of grape soda. They ring me and put my pork rinds in a white plastic bag. I see there are brown paper bags on the counter demand to know why they didn't use the brown bag instead of the white bag. I scream for all to hear, "That's racist!!"
I then stop at the library to check out some recreational books. I ask the librarian where the conspiracy textbooks are. For some reason, she looks surprised and tells me they don't have conspiracy texts.
"We're a small branch library," she says, "but can I interest you in the latest Kardashian bio?"
By now, I am livid. The government is denying me my fundamental human right to read!
Outside the library, there's a homeless guy asking for change. I'm not prosperous at all, so I give him a nickel. It really made me mad how that homeless guy took the last of my change. He was denying my right to keep my income. "Denier," I mutter under my breath.
I leave the library, wondering how many more deniers I will encounter.
The light at intersection turns red before I could go through. It denies me getting through the intersection. This time, I yell extra loud at the traffic light to outdo the whirr-whirr of my moped. "DENIER!!!!," I roar at the traffic light, as it sways in the breeze.
When I get home, they are repaving the main lot of my apartment building. The construction guy tells me I have to park in the auxiliary lot.
"But that's across the street!" I try to reason. But he doesn't care. He's just another denier.
I go into my apartment, taking solace in the pork rinds and drinks that I bought. I reach the bottom of the pork bag, only to find out there is no prize. I am so furious that I call the pork rind company. The guy on the other end must practice denialism because he tells me that he's only heard of prizes in Cracker Jack.
"You're another denier!" I slam down the phone for the 2nd time in one day.
I sit back down on my couch and sigh. I reflect on a world full of deniers as I wash down the last pork rind with grape soda.
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