We’ve all been that drunk person at the bodega. The one who doesn’t seem to comprehend what an asshole he’s being by knocking over various bags of chips and maybe even a few bottles of strategically placed Monster energy drinks. But none of us have ever realized–until about a week ago–just how close we could have been to getting maimed for our actions as a result of the beleaguered bodega owner’s impatience.
“The scary thing is, like, that guy knew the drunk person. They were friends. If that’s what can happen to someone’s non-white friend when he’s drunk, I don’t even wanna think what could happen to a person like me, all coming in here with my gentrifyin’ Jäger-drinkin’ ass. I have to cool it on drunk buying sandwiches for awhile,” fearfully stated Slater Sloane, an oxford-wearing recent graduate of NYU.
The incident, which took place at a nameless bodega on Evergreen Avenue, where more and more businesses are tempting the fates by baiting the Native American curse that has previously left the road untarnished by the trappings brought forth via the advent of a certain demographic, has left many local drunks extremely spooked. “I braved the canned food aisle at Food Bazaar just so I could stock up on enough sustenance to prevent me from stumbling into a bodega to fulfill my drunk cravings. I don’t want to die like that. I’d rather die by crucifixion,” insisted Marigold Plimp, a 25-year-old who often tries to compete with youths at vendors’ markets. With so many suddenly forced to take a long, hard look at how they act while wasted in a bodega, could this spark a noticeable slump in sandwich sales–not to mention Boar’s Head distribution?
Written by Genna Rivieccio