We are the Knights Who Say Ni! Ni! Ni!

A few interesting things happened in the last few days. While concentrating on winning this auction, my mother was sitting on the couch behind me and asked for me to put a number down that she had just seen on television. Assuming that it was some sort of weight-watchers program, I said with a rude but cheery tone "but I don't wanna." She explained to me that it was a number for a two-day opportunity to get a free cable installation with a cheap monthly payment.That made me sad, because I want cable -- I truly do, after ten years of not having it.

After asking my mother if I could purchase the auction item I was looking at, in which she responded with an indifferent "mm-hmm", I went on a journey to find out as much information about this cheap cable opportunity until my brain turned to mush. My mother eventually found a flyer in the paper about it and called. I will finally be getting cable television as of August 28th, 2002, the day I begin school.

The next day, we went to the post office to send payment to the seller of the bid item I had won the day before. I like the Smashing Pumpkins. I like them good.

At the post office, my mother was at a counter buying stamps while I took a stroll around. On a wall featuring various stamps, I pointed to one and looked to my mother. "That's Andy Warhol. Some of his art is at the Museum of Fine Arts right now." And she responded with an indifferent "mm-hmm."

I shrugged and continued walking about, until I passed a man writing something against a counter table. I couldn't see his face, but I saw the back of his shirt. It read OTAKON in big, bold letters. I stopped and gaped at the man's back for a few seconds, then ran away at a moderately slow pace. I did not speak to him, but I so wanted to.

After the post office, we went to the dreaded Natick Mall. Full of, oh, so many people. My mother prefered to shop at one particular store, so we didn't get around to much. Most of the time there, I kept saying and muttering such things like, "No variety! Why are all the clothes the same? There's nothing unique or original here, mom!" and she responded with an indifferent "mm-hmm."

There was this one shirt that stood out to me. It seemed to have a print out of a Hindu prayerbook all around it, with Rama, Vishnu, and an old bald guy. I didn't get it, however; the neck was too low to allow me to be seen in public places. On the same rack as that shirt, I pulled out a strange shirt. It had the image of a cat licking itself, with the text "Don't worry, I do THIS all the time." I stared at it for a while, pondering its meaning, muttering "I don't get it." It couldn't have possibly meant that the wearer of the shirt licked themselves constantly? No, it must have meant something too profound enough for me to understand. I placed that shirt back into the rack and walked away.

I ended up buying a couple of rugby shirts, a zip-up sweater with a malfunctioning zipper, and a pair of windpants. Nothing too fancy or trendy, though I saw about twenty girls that day wearing shirts of the same rugby style I had just purchased. That made me extremely sad.


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