The State of Backroads Is as Dire as the State of the Rest of the World

Val often finds it difficult to bite her sharp tongue. Especially where Millennials are concerned. Those very special snowflakes get Val's goat. Has she not tried to raise two of them herself? With moderate success, that one being The Pony, and the wayward black sheep being Genius, and his "Woman, go make me a sammich!" mentality.

Sure, The Pony does not care about helping people. He is self-absorbed. Looking out for number one. But at least he doesn't think the world owes him a trophy for merely existing. Nor does Genius, but he is not averse to requesting perks from the world for putting himself out there and moving and shaking.

Val encountered her goat-getting Millennials in Walmart around noon. Obviously, they had not come to Walmart to get goats, but to get buns. Hot dog buns. The generic kind that don't even carry the Great Value brand name, but are nameless. With instructions at the bottom of the package in Spanish. My sister the ex-mayor's wife turned Val on to them. They are the freshest ever. Though not top shelf, they occupy the bottom three shelves, in mass quantities.

There was Val, tooling along with her cart that doubles as a walker, having just turned the corner, coming up on those two Millennials like T-Hoe on a roadwalker. And like the roadwalker, these Millennials made Val move out of their way. They monopolized the bun shelf. Rifling through those fragile breadstuffs like they were wedding dresses at Filene's basement sale. In fact, a package of hot dog buns was flung off the shelf and onto the tile in their frenzy.

Val stood with her cart, waiting for those two Millennials to pick up what they had flung asunder. But no. They latched onto a package of buns and LEFT! LEFT! Did you get that? They LEFT THE PACKAGE OF BUNS THEY HEAVED OVER  A SHOULDER TO THE FLOOR LAYING ON THE FLOOR!

That is not proper bun-buying etiquette. Even in Missouri.

Val mumbled, "Really? REALLY? You're just going to leave those buns on the floor, after you threw them there? Oh, don't mind me. I'll just put them back for you. Because obviously you are not going to clean up your mess." Val is lucky that she is a good mutterer, and that Millennials live in their own heads and do not respond to chastisement, because they are such very special snowflakes that they never do anything wrong.

Handbaskets. What the world needs now is handbaskets. Handbaskets capable of running right over a package of hot dog buns laying on the tile floor. Handbaskets capable of running right over Millennials.