Yesterday, the President of our decrepit nation decided to 'roadtrip' through my home town. Now mind you, Marion only takes about ten minutes to drive completely through. This single man required nearly every road, every intersection and every bridge to be completely shut down for HOURS. "Why?" One asks themselves. "Why am I standing here making a leaning tower of Pasta and Scotch tape in a grocery store, awaiting customers that surely are on their way..?" As the day continued, when nobody came to buy their customary toilet paper and donuts, I began to wonder if the zombie apocalypse had happened. "My God, I'm going to die here at work." Armed with a mop and a bottle of Windex, my first customer of the day approached me. "That dayum Obamars got us all clogged up like a dog eatin' cheese. Summbeetch I swurr.." According to this elderly gentlemen, The Presibama decided to stop in Marion to grab lunch. A five minute drive through the crummiest, most greasey-lard-laden BBQ diner in the county held every single road hostage for hours. Slightly relieved that I hadn't missed the Rapture, I rang out my first customer's prune juice and catfood with the enthusiasm of an overworked rest-area attendant.
Once the Men in Black gave the Green Light, it was pure mayhem. The Donner Party of McDowell burst through the doors like it was Free Ham Sunday. Mothers of BBQ waitresses gushed over how beautiful their daughters looked next to Mr. President. "We're all just so proud.. She is so brilliant! When asked what sides they offered, she said 'Hushpuppies and beans, sir!' Can you imagine? How many moms can say their kids held conversation with a president!"
Let's all celebrate with a box of wine and a carton of Newport lights.
All grumbling aside, I truly hope that the Obamas enjoyed their visit. I hope mister President enjoys the explosive Diarrhea that only a McDowell County meal can provide.
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