Poo Poo Pourri

(My mom and I are shopping one of our favorite boutique furniture stores. We are looking at a table that has been decorated with a large wooden bowl filled with strongly smelling potpourri rose hips when a man rushes up to the bowl.)

Customer: “Are these for eating?” *scoops up a large handful of rose hips*

Me: “What? No. That’s just decoration. It smells like potpourri!”

Customer: “These are for eating.” *turns to nearby salesgirl* “Are these for eating?”

Salesgirl: “No sir, those are just decoration. Please…”

Customer: *interrupts her and scoops a larger handful of potpourri* “No. You’re wrong. These are to be eaten.”

Salesgirl: “No, sir! Please put those down. Do not eat them!”

Customer: “You’re saying this is not free food?”

Salesgirl: “Sir, that is not food! You could get sick! There is a restaurant across the street. Go eat there.”

Customer: “I’m pretty sure this is for me to eat. You don’t know.”

(They continue to argue until she is called away. I’ve stayed to watch the show.)

Customer: *turns to me and whispers* “I know these aren’t just decoration. How could they be? She doesn’t know.”

(He poured a large handful of potpourri rose hips into his mouth, and his whole face immediately puckered with disgust and disappointment.)