I went to replenish my smokes supply at a petrol station. This might not be the most logical place to buy cigarettes at, but it’s conveniently located, carries my brand and, unlike my nearest tobacco shop, employs staff that doesn’t let on how annoying it is that a customer has come to disturb them. Hardly did I enter the station area when a toothless man in a Shell shirt approached me and gave me a white rose. I inquired what day it was that flowers were freely distributed. He explained that it was just like that. Alright. That explains it.
With my purchase, on which the seller didn’t really earn anything because tobacco is heavily taxed, I got a complimentary pink cookie saying, Thank you, Your Shell. That was weird, I was thinking as I was leaving the building, and bumped into another customer holding awkwardly a white rose and coming in for his very own pink cookie. Don’t worry, I’m not gay, he exclaimed immediately on seeing me. That escalated quickly.
I’m not sure what sense it makes. If he were gay, then I’d have no reason to worry that he might rape me. His uninvited declaration of his sexual preferences therefore increased rather than diminished my concern. Besides me overthinking things, nothing else happened. I resisted the urge to throw the funeral flower in a bin straight away and brought it home against my better judgement. I checked that it didn’t contain a surveillance camera and put it in a shot glass, pictured below.