Sweetheart Unimpressed by Convenience Store Valentine’s Day GiftsPosted by admin on February 14, 2023 Blog | Prep | Tags: blog, comedy, gift giving, gifts, satire, Spence, Valentine's Day | No comments
A Florida man who chose laziness over romance found his sweetheart unimpressed with his convenience store Valentine’s Day gifts.
“I spared no expense, really,” said John Brankton of Coral Gables. “Nearly twenty-bucks, and this is the thanks I get?”
Brankton, now single, was frustrated by the response of his girlfriend, Chelsea Burlington. “I gave her one of everything. The Valentine’s Day Superfecta: giant card, chocolate candy, gold-flaked rose and a small teddy bear holding an even smaller” ‘I love you’ balloon.”
Brankton said, “I even picked up a pair of edible undies from down at the Super Adultarama. She ain’t gettin’ em though. I ain’t mad ’cause I love cherry vanilla. I’ll probably snack on those bad boys later tonight with or without her.”
The Worst Valentine’s Day Ever
Burlington, Brankton’s on-and-off-again girlfriend-baby mama-first cousin said she was tired of her now ex’s terrible Valentine’s Day gifts.
“I thought him giving me chlamydia back when I was 17 was the low point,” recounted Burlington. “He then comes home with a convenience store gold-flaked rose? Burlington chided, “That ain’t the way to get into these stretch pants, no sir!”
Brankton countered, “Many men have gotten into those stretch pants for far less.”
Meantime at the Circle K, Victor, an employee of three weeks, prides himself on not getting involved in customers’ Valentine’s Day gift selections.
“Would I buy this shit for my girl? Fuck, no,” responded Victor. But, you know, the convenience store is a business based on bad decisions: cigarettes, beer, doughnuts, heart attack-inducing chimichangas. We got it all here and it’s all bad.”
Victor continued, “I’ve made the mistake though. I bought a giant teddy bear for my lady a couple of years back. She was like, ‘Victor, I’m forty-fucking-three-years-old,'” he recounted in an angry, slightly higher-pitched voice. “You gonna get me a Pitbull poster and some lip gloss too? Fuck, you Victor!”
Alone on Valentine’s Day
Brankton sits on a gum-stained sidewalk curb, outside the Circle K, enjoying an ice cold Mountain Dew and the aforementioned palatable panties. A half-smoked Pall Mall dangling from his lips. His tobacco stained fingers cradling the tiny teddy bear with an even tinier “I love you” balloon.
“I never figured cherry vanilla and citrus would go so well together,” he observed in between bites of what resembled a bikini-shaped fruit roll-up. “And these panties,” he continued, “so much better without all that hair.”