The Twilight Sparkle In Their Eyes

, , , , , | Right | September 25, 2020

I’m in line at a sandwich shop ordering a meatball sub.

Customer: *Behind me* “Excuse me.”

I turn around to see a woman in her early fifties wearing lots of jewelry.

Customer: “Is that a My Little Pony on your shirt?”

Me: “Yeah, you a fan?”

Customer: “No! That show is evil and you are a degenerate!”

Me: “Excuse me?”

Customer: “That show ruined my son! Now he has dyed his hair in rainbow colors and he buys toys for little girls and goes to these awful conventions with smelly people that do the same thing!”

Tears begin to run down her face. People in the store are turning to look.

Me: “Ma’am, maybe you shouldn’t be so judgmental of me or your son. It’s just a show that a lot of people happen to like, a show that teaches about the value of friendship and acceptance. Perhaps you could stand to learn a lesson or two from it yourself.”

Customer: “No! My son had such a promising future and now he’s admitted to me that he is a homosexual! It’s all that d*** show’s fault! People like you ruined my son!”

She reaches out to slap me, but I quickly deflect the blow.

Me: “Ma’am, please don’t touch me. I train regularly in Krav Maga.”

The woman grabs her forearm where her arm had met mine.

Customer: “Help! This degenerate struck me for standing up for my beliefs!”

She looks, wild-eyed, at the small girl behind the counter, who has watched the whole thing without saying a word.

Customer: “You! Call for your manager and have this society-destroying pariah thrown out of here! He assaulted me!”

Manager: “I am the manager. And I just saw that whole thing. It’s you who had better leave. I won’t have you assaulting people in my place of business for wearing shirts that express their values.”

The woman stomps out in a huff without ordering any food. People sitting at the tables and in line begin to clap for me and the manager.

Manager: “Sorry about that. And hey, the sub’s on us. Because nobody messes with Twilight Sparkle.”

She reached over the glass to give me a high-five, even after I insisted on paying for my lunch. And wouldn’t you know it? Her phone number was written on the napkin she put in my bag.

1 Thumbs
393