Mr. Fancypants

January 24th, 2013 | Posted in nutjob hills | Comments Off

As happens from time to time, Nutjob Hills gained a new citizen recently. He introduces himself as “Mr. Franklin J. Homer the third, at your service” (yeah, he actually says it exactly that way). I’ve taken to calling him “Frankie” simply because I rather like the faint shade of purple that creeps into his face when he hears me say it.

Frankie is one of those that really believes he’s better than anybody else around him and that because he’s so much better he deserves the absolute best of everything at all times with no exceptions.

Little things like something he thinks is essential actually being considered by everybody else as little more than eye candy or more likely, a royal pain in the butt to obtain for his highness.

This super picky attitude extends to every single aspect of his life. From what he has for breakfast to what he wears to go for an afternoon walk.

His jewelry has to be the finest, most expensive pieces around, something like a simple Timex like most other people use just isn’t good enough for him, he’s got to have a fancy Swiss TAG Heuer. And everything has to be done for him. He’s not going to pump his own gas for example, he expects full service even though none of the three gas stations in Nutjob Hills offers full service.

He went into a micky-d’s yesterday and instead of waiting in line at the counter like everybody else in the world does, he took a seat and waited. He sat there for an hour, more and more frequently giving increasingly nasty looks at the employees. Finally the manager came over to find out why this strange angry looking man had come into his store and simply sat there for an hour.

No sooner did he get there than Frankie started to berate him for poor service and demanded to see a menu. The manager pointed toward the counter and said the menu is right there, you can go place your order anytime. Incensed at the idea that somebody expected him to do something for himself, Frankie berated the manager even more, getting as close as he could to yelling without actually doing so.

Finally the manager did something that Frankie was clearly not expecting, he ordered him to leave and threatened to call the police if he didn’t comply immediately.

Stunned into silence and clearly at a loss for words, Frankie left.

This town is something ain’t it?

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