"Is this some kind of apple? TeeHee!" Hello again, FPH.  Your wrist bones are lovely as always.  I've got a quick one for you today. So, I'm at the grocery store, in the misnomer that is the express lane, picking up a few things I'm short on.  Mainly, tomatoes, some naan, and my username.  It's taking a little longer than usual, and I begin to wonder why, until the fatstomers waddle out of the way, to reveal the visage of the fatshier. Let me paint a picture for you, my lovelies:  the head was shaped like a bag of minnows, coloured like a poisonous insect, and cratered worse than Mercury during the heavy bombardment.  Body type... I'm not sure, but something akin to a sack of weasels thrown repeatedly against a wall.  Gender... fluid? A high viscosity one at that.  Either molasses or mayo.  Lets just say this thing was well, well beyond tumblr starter pack. Anyway, I placed my items on the belt, and one by one, the beast scanned them through, not really saying anything to me until... Fatshier: Is this some kind of apple? TeeHee! Me: That's... an heirloom tomato. Fatshier: Oh, like in pizza sauce! Me: ... More like in a caprese salad. Fatshier: I have no idea what that is. Me: ...I can tell. The rest of the transaction was completed in death-like silence.  I wasn't even told to 'have a nice day!' at the end.  It's ok though, 'cause my day started to get nice once planet bucket-o-cottage-cheese was out of my view, and I out of its orbit. Of course, Edna SausageHands ended up bruising my tomatoes.  I'm going back tomorrow to complain.  Fucking fatties.  They really do ruin everything.