Jens vs. the World #5
Jens and Randi were in a pleasant Mexican restaurant in a small Texas town. “I’d like a margarita,” Jens told the waitress.
“Oh, this is a dry county. We don’t have margaritas.”
“What is this, freaking Iran? Give me a margarita, you heathen Mohammedan!”
Randi gave their agreed-upon distress signal. Jens desisted.
“Well, then, maybe you can help me with something else,” Jens said. “I’m looking for my friend. His name is Meth. Meth M. Phetamine. Do you know where I can find Meth?”
“Oh, sure, honey, just go down to the Meth Market.”
“I thought that said ‘Math Market’. I guess ‘Meth Market’ makes more sense,” Jens said.
They went to the Meth Market. It was busy. Jens bought some meth. He paid for it with Visa. “Every modern convenience,” he said. “Country living.”
A constable passed. Jens quickly hid his purchase, but the cop saw nonetheless. “Oh, you don’t need to worry about that in these parts,” he said with a chuckle. “We love meth, ’round here.”
“Really? Do explain,” said Jens.
“Meth’s the best thing to happen to this town since the cattle industry!” said the friendly sheriff or whatever. “Meth paid off my ranch house. Meth paid off my F250. Meth is putting my kids through college.
“But the economic argument aside,” continued the friendly lawman, “this here is Real America, Main Street America, Tea Party America. We believe in small government, a government that doesn’t interfere with the rights of the individual.”
“Then,” said Jens conspiratorially, “maybe you can tell me where I can buy a margarita.”
The lawman stiffened. “Sir, I will pummel your fucking face.”