August 10th, 2011Cashier: Ma’am, are you buying that?Shannon: Me? What? This Star magazine? Oh, no no, I don’t read gossip magazines. I’m a college graduate; English Literature with a minor in Nuclear Disarmament.Shannon’s Internal Monologue: (“Angelina’s Nanny tells all”…Can you believe what some people will do for money?… they just sell their souls…look at this…she says Angie’s mom Marcheline went into a “deep, debilitating depression” after Jon cheated on her and left the family…poor Angelina, no wonder she turned to cutting, heroin and Billie Bob Thornton, a known manorexic, antique-furniture-ophobe…I wonder if she pencils her eyebrows in black and beats Maddox, Pax, Knox, Shiloh, Z and Madeleine with hangers?)
Cashier: So, you’re not getting the magazine?
Shannon: Certainly not. I read Simone DeBeauvoir for Christsakes. I wipe my ass with first edition pages of Sartre! I gargle Siddhartha and coat my hemorrhoids liberally with Brecht!
SIM: (Look at that poor woman Daniel Craig dumped … Satsuki, who appears to be of Eurasian parentage…look at the hollows under her almond eyes…and he ditched her for Rachel Weisz who I never would’ve pegged as a Man-Nabber…but look at the legs on her…she must travel by exer-cycle…and have a weight bar over her toilet for when she squats…)
Cashier: Ma’am everything’s rung up, are you getting the magazine or what?
Guy In Line Behind Shannon: Get it or don’t get it, just make up your mind, Virginia Woolf!
Shannon: I’d no sooner purchase this tripe than Sylvia Plath would pull her head out of the oven and return to the life of a cuckholdress!
SIM: (Look at that! Eva Longoria has a little baby muffin top…there it is, circled in red just above her True Religion jeans and Hanky Panky low-rise thong…ack, that is a terrible bathing suit…Anne Hathaway’s boobs are totally pointing in opposite directions…)
Check-Out Line Rabble: (ad lib) Someone slap her, she’s gone into a
Shcadenfreude coma! I say we just prise that rag out of her addict’s grip, knock her down and pelt her with copies of Harlequin Romances from the pyramid display. Is that…is she drooling?
SIM: (those poor women, can’t the paparazzi just leave them in peace?…everyone knows overhead sunlight is unforgiving…who reads this crap? It just panders to the Lowest Common Denominator…pure, unadulterated twaddle…
Cashier: Lady, you in or you out?
Shannon: Absolutely out! I’ve got Rilke tattooed on my left breast, Scott Fitzgerald on my right! Only my husband knows where I tattooed Henry Miller!
ISM: (Stop the presses…is that Gwyneth?… my nemesis?...what’s that on her starkly white, freakishly toned thighs?…could it that be…cellulite?…Sweet Jesus it is! Just look at the cheddah on Gwyneth!)
Shannon to Cashier: I’ll pay whatever you’re asking!
Cashier: Your dignity, character and every fiber of your being.
Shannon: Throw in the Us Weekly (Who’s Jake Gyllenhal making it with now? It better not be Gwyneth), a National Enquirer (Is Kirstie getting fat again?), a People Latina (Has J. Lo married number four yet?) and you’ve got a deal!
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