When I got to the bakery I was in a shit mood. I stood in line behind bratty Manhattan kids, howling and crying about what they wanted their parents to buy them. The parents weren't much better. When they'd get to the front of the line they'd make sure to show they were put out for having to wait. I wanted to punch them in the face, but I had to admit I was just like them.
"Fuck Raymond Carver,"
Booth: Vol. 3
, Article 4.
Available at: http://digitalcommons.butler.edu/booth/vol3/iss8/4