Professor Popinjay's Compendium of Perspicacity

First published May 25, 2016

—–You may not know this, but I lead a double life. Well, I guess it would be a tripple life. Of course I have my “secret” identity to protect my friends and loved things should one of Popinjay’s nemeses decide to get into my hot tub while I’m on vacation or steal my Arizona sweet tea and use it for their own abominable ends. Then of course there’s the identity of Popinjay himself, stoic, regal, profound. But my third identity, known only to elderly ladies posted at the entrance to Wal-mart, is that of Wafflellow, Gentleman Stealer of Waffles!
—–My method is simplicity itself. I abandon the bourgeois thievery techniques of stealth and slight-of-hand. I do not sneak in under cover of night and slip those cherished delectables into a black bag. Nay! I barge into the store with my wife and four children, three of whom I have purposefully driven to tears so as to attract as much attention as possible. This is done by disabling my children from killing each other, a pastime which is for some reason very dear to them. Naturally at this time, as in all times, my wife and I are engaged in a heated debate as to which of us loves the other more though to onlookers it likely appears to be quite the furious quandary between us. Of course, this is all pretense; nothing more than a smoke screen to mask my true intentions for there in the frozen foods section lies a special prize: sweet, pre-made, toaster waffles. They are soon to be mine!
—–Rather than smuggle the tasty morning matrices into my jacket or in some other less sanitary place, I again forgo the typical modus operandi of the experienced thief and instead hand the box to my one-year-old who proceeds to slowly and methodically chew the box open with her recently developed teeth. At this point it occurs to my wife that we are in a store which specializes in selling merchandise to anyone with the monetary remunerations to accommodate purchase and, despite this set back, we proceed to sift through the entirety of the store’s wares with a fine toothed comb, metaphorically speaking until we reach the part of the store devoted to fine-toothed combs. In all this time, my children continue to cry and fight, my wife and I continue to publicly exhibit a shocking degree of affection/disdain, and my one-year old proceeds to chew a dime sized whole in the waffle box. My plan is almost complete.
—–The next step in my evil scheme may surprise you, for it is now that I escort the waffles with family in tow toward the checkout aisle. Now I know what you’re thinking.
—–“Surely Waffellow, Gentleman Stealer of Waffles, has some clever method of slipping past the store clerk with his treasure stowed safley away from lawful eyes!?!”
—–The answer to that question is, “Yes, Yes I do.”
—–You see, while other thieves must go to great lengths to avoid the long arm of the law, I do the unthinkable to bring home those grid-imbued breakfast cakes and cram them into my face hole. I pay for them in full. Not only do I pay for them, but I do it with real money minted by the actual United States government which I have earned with my actual blood, sweat, and tears. Last I checked this is still a free country with free enterprise and if I want to pay the price for stealing waffles then by God that’s my choice! Incidentally the price for stealing waffles is too great, all things considered, so I just pay the 1.98 for the box and go home.
—–Unfortunately there’s one obstacle that stands between me and my child-seat filled minivan. No it’s not the dozens of checkout-aisle last-minute-impulse-items my children hand to the cashier while I’m busy pulling choke-worthy chunks of waffle box cardboard out of my baby’s mouth. No. I refer merely to a kindly-faced elderly lady who stands at the exit, gentle and endearing in a way only a well-loved grandmother can be. She smiles warmly as we approach, overjoyed apparently at the sight of my dear children as they bite and eviscerate one another in their silly childish way. If only we could move along faster to take her hand and hear her fond farewell. Finally we arrive.
—–“May I please see your receipt.” She says.
—–“BEAT IT YOU OLD HAG!!!” I suddenly think to myself.
—–Then I think, “No, this is an honored member of society who deserves my respect.”
—–“You can see my receipt.” I say as I continue to walk past her. “As soon as you chase me down and dig it out of my plastic bag while I lay nearby in an unconscious state because that’s the only way it’s going to happen!”
—–My wife understands my sentiment but is slightly embarrassed by the scene I’ve caused, that is until the elderly sentinel falls to her knees and shouts “Curse you, Waffellow, Gentleman Stealer of Waffles!!!”
—–As I swing into the rafters to make my escape, I yank my wife to my side via bull-whip and toss my foiled foe a liberated waffle, I retort, “Always remember this as the day you almost caught Waffellow, Gentlemen Stealer… of Waffles! Hazaa!”
—–Then I slide through the driver side window of my minivan and speed off into the sun… which takes a very long time because it’s 93 million miles away but at least my waffles get good and toasted.
—–Later I think to myself, “What is an honored member of society who deserves my respect doing at the exit of Wal-mart accosting would be criminals? What would she be expected to do in the event a criminal should appear? She’s 160 years old at the very least. She should be enjoying retirement not working as a bouncer!”
—–Then I think, “Why would Wal-mart post a 160 year old lady as a bouncer? It’s nice they offer jobs to all people but how much respect do they have for an honored citizen who would in any other position be wonderful to interact with. They should be utilizing her kindness not posting her on guard duty!”
—–Then I think, “Wal-mart used to have greeters. Often times they were disabled elderly veterans who got a well deserved salute from me every time I entered the store. I remembered their names and was genuinely happy to see them. But clearly the loss of waffle profits have outweighed the need for warm greetings and comfy jobs for honored citizens.”
In all seriousness, if I had been walking out of the store with a huge flatscreen TV or even a five-dollar DVD for crying out loud, I would understand someone checking my receipt. But my wife and I with our family of four are NOT stealing waffles. No one is. And quite frankly, if someone loves waffles enough to steal them in a time of need, if I was a store manager I would let them go. In fact if you need waffles in a bad way but can’t cough up the dough, hit me up! Popinjay will supplement your waffle addiction because Popinjay cares and understands. In fact we’re gonna have a party… a waffle party. We’re gonna eat waffles and respect honored citizens and Wal-mart upper management WON’T BE INVITED!

-Professor Popinjay