I went to the Dollar Barn for some Christmas shopping. Everything was going cool. I found some great deals on religious candles for my parents. I found some Party Pizzas for my nephew, Brandon. I found some thick plastic cleaning gloves for my grandma to wear while she's washing my bike. Pretty good deals.

And then I reached the picture frame aisle. They were normal picture frames. Nothing special. But the pre-inserted demo photos were all of me. Pictures of me sleeping, pictures of me bathing, pictures of me during my vacation to Vermont. I didn't understand it. I freaked out a little. I filled my cart with them.

I went to the check-out line and the cashier said, "We've been expecting you."

I said, "What?"

"Yes," she said, "You've come to deliver us from retail prices."

"No, I came to get bargains for Christmas," I said.

Her eyes turned white. "You are The One," she said as she grabbed my Kalvin Klux Kline tie and pulled me into the break room, where I screened several hours of pre-employment training videos about sexual harassment and shrink-reduction and then the lights came on.

"Now you are ready," said the clerk.

She put a red vest over my head and suddenly my hair was greasy and parted down the side. I was wearing big Jeffery Dahmer-ish glasses. My pants were too short.

The End

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