Canadian Quarters

No offense to my Canadian readers, but I hate your quarters. The 24-hour corner store thought they were slick the other night and gave me one with my change. I didn’t even notice until I got home. I looked at the coins in my pocket and said “George Washington is looking kinda feminine on this one…Wait a minute! WHAT THE HELL?! Aww man! They just got me!”

I would not have cared if it were a Canadian penny. I can deal with being cheated out of $0.01 without my inner cheapskate reaching the surface. Twenty-five pennies, however, and I’m going to be upset! Cheating me out of a quarter is not going to make me angry enough to commit felony assault, but it will definitely irritate me to the point of plotting revenge. Thinking of a master plan is free. Plus I’m brilliant, if I do say so myself. And I do! I DO say so myself! Therefore, Operation F*ck ‘Yo Canadian Quarter went into effect a matter of hours ago.

Around 1am, I stopped by the same 24-hour corner store near my house that gave me the Canadian quarter. They obviously did not know who they were f*cking with, and underestimated just how petty I can be about these type of things. I went in there, bought a bag of Doritos for $1, and put four quarters in the revolving bulletproof fiberglass nice and quickly, with the Canadian one among the group. The cashier barely looked at my money. I guess he was surprised to see someone sober in his store at that hour, and just decided not to ask questions. Whatever the case, I did a quick celebratory two step dance once I left the place and the mission’s success was complete. Yes, I bought some junk food that I didn’t need, and yes, my breath smelled like corn chips smothered in dark orange nacho-cheese seasoning, but damn it, I got to give that Canadian quarter right back to the fools who gave it to me! I’m glad it worked, because the only other plan I had was to heat up the quarter before giving it to the cashier and leave leave him with a Queen Elizabeth brand on the palm of his hand. That would have been overkill.

Considering the economic state of the U.S. right now, maybe I should have kept that Canadian quarter and started saving to relocate to Toronto. I mean, Drake is from there, and people love him. I’m almost as yellow as that guy, with less eyebrows. Maybe the Canadian public will embrace me too! I’ll have to start saying things like “aboot” instead of “about”…You know what? Nevermind. I shall continue to take my chances here in the good ol’ U.S. of A.!

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