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-UE
The government isn't doing enough to keep young people away from the presence of alcohol
Yesterday my brother and I went to the liquor store. My poor, addled nineteen-year-old mind, having been inundated by destructive images on television and in film, was quickly inundated by the intoxicating sight of alcoholic beverages.
"Come on, bro," my elder sibling whispered seductively, as a clawlike hand - no doubt stained with countless acts of child molestation and bestiality - wrapped around my wrist. "We need to get some beer for Mom and Dad."
Mom and Dad. How loathsome I must be in their eyes, standing there among the bottles that contained the darkest of temptations.
Despite my better judgment - I am barely more than a child, despite my ability to own land, vote, operate heavy machinery, buy weaponry, smoke cigarettes, smoke pipes, serve in the military, enter into binding legal contracts, give consent to sexual encounters and watch pornography - I followed my cackling brother as he fondled various cartons of the dreaded liquid that is alcohol.
Finally, like an online predator spotting an underage chatroom user, the creature that called itself my brother spied a particularly large and expensive box, no doubt containing the dark juice that is the condensed essence of man's iniquity. He giggled, a high, eerie sound, and lifted it with one soiled hand. "This one looks good. I'm twenty-one, so I'll pay."
He dragged me - a babe of nineteen - up to the cash register, his slack mouth dripping with saliva in anticipation for the gang-rape of my soul.
But who was at the register? You will laugh, but at that moment I saw him as an angel, sent from God to free me from the oppressive and destructive influence of alcohol. And, by God, his voice was as honey to my ears, as he took my brother's identity card, looked upon the disgusting visage of my kin and said, "I'm sorry, sir, but Minnesota law prevents me from selling alcoholic beverages to you."
"Excuse me?" My brother regurgitated.
"Your brother is underage, so he can't be in the store. And now I'm unable to sell to you, because you might give him some." The angel looked at me, pity and understanding filling his eyes.
"Oh," My brother hissed. "[Hatter] and I will leave, then."
"Have a nice day, sir," the angel replied.
His tiny, loathsome erection wilting as my own spirits rose, my brother grabbed me with one disgusting paw and led me out of the store.
I shudder to think of what might have happened had my brother been able to purchase the alcohol he had desired. No doubt he would have shared it with me, and, in my orgy of destruction, I might have raped an infant or nun. Perhaps he might not have given me the alcohol, and, in my innocence, I might have inadvertently inhaled some of the fumes rising from an empty beer bottle. In that case, I think it not unlikely that I'd have merely torn my cat's head off and drank his blood, and confined my rampant youthful violence to the household.
In any case, I am glad that the great state of Minnesota saw fit to blacklist my brother from purchasing alcohol at that store, for God only knows what wanton violence may have occurred had he been free to do what he wished with his own property, with other consenting adults?
My only complaint is this: the state was too lax in its duties. It should have immediately swept down upon me and gouged out my eyes (so that I might not see and be tempted by evil alcohol) and sewn up my lips (so that alcohol could not be fed to me). In this regard, I believe more legislature is needed.
Comments
-leaves thread-
(Switching off sarcasm mode)
Yes. After leaving the store, I stayed in the car while my brother went to another store. He actually got the box for fifty percent of the other store's price.