The one about Best Buy

Hold on kiddies. This one is epic.

Best Buy makes me uncomfortable. Not really the store. But the minions that work in it. You know the ones I speak of; blue shirted, kaki wearing, viciously helpful individuals who down right scare me. Yesterday I woke up with the perfectly normal thought of needing to return a universal remote that tragically did not work with my previously mentioned superior home entertainment system. I was upset that ten dollars of mine was locked up in a poor investment. So I promptly repackaged the remote and prepared to leave. It was during this preparation that I realized I was unsure of where I had bought the damned remote. However to my glee I remembered that I had saw one like it at my local Best Buy (hell on Earth). So I thought to myself, "They sell them, they should take it back, even without a receipt." This I later found was an ignorant assumption. I walked through the door and was greeted by one of Satan's yellow shirted security minions who literally said "Wad'a got for me?". My heart stopped. I was instantly transported back to my drug running days in Florida in the 70's. By drugs I mean prescription medication for the elderly and by 70's I mean never. But this was an awkward situation. I knew that I was unsure of where I had bought this item. I knew that if this electronics slave figured this out I would receive the full wrath of this evil institution in the form of a mugging consisting of being flogged with RCA cords and clearance signs. Or just refused the return. But remember, this was ten un-spendable dollars or seven minutes in heaven with former Senator Larry Craig. Which were the two choices I was presented with upon the return. But thats another story. Actually its not. Anyway, I managed to make it past the doorman to the customer service desk. This is where I started to feel the true heat of the flames emitting from the basement of enslaved consumers, that was undoubtedly beneath me. I again was welcomed by one of Satan's wife's in the form a male for some weird reason. After being informed that I was unable to produce a receipt (because it probably never existed) I was grilled with questions. Did I use a credit card? He was trying to track my purchase through government satellites and black magic called "computer". I was frightened. My shaky voice answered. His eyes lit with flame. Dark wings sprouted from his spine. He then inquired if I had used something called a "Rewards Zone" card. Clearly some kind of membership to the evil side. Something about being given prizes for the amount of good, kind hearted people (like myself) you capture. I again answer no. This was not pleasing. He grabbed a mouth piece and mumbled some kind of evil alien language of codes. His leader emerged from a dark cloud that seeped though the floor. This apparent king of this particular layer of hell typed something into this "computer" and vanished before my eyes. Upon completing this, the transaction was finished, as were my dreams of Senator Larry Craig due to the fact that I only received eight dollars. I did not question this because I simply wanted to escape with my life, and soul if it wasn't too much to ask. I wondered around the store for a few moments as to not attract any curious blue shirts. I then quickly retreated to the safety of my vehicle happy with an endeavor well executed.

Travis