Spellcheck, Grocery Store, Root Beer

I didn't finish my story until around 3:30am this morning, so naturally, I didn't proofread it. I relied on spellcheck to cover my mistakes. The fault of spellcheck is that if you misspell a word, but your misspelled word is another actual word, spellcheck doesn't give a shit. Spellcheck is like a government employee. So my story is full of errors that absolutely drive me nuts.

I finally settled on an ending for my story. I wrote three of them, and wasn't really pleased with any of them, but the third one I wrote will suffice for the time being. It wraps things up nicely, but it seems a little too trite for my liking. Who knows, the class will probably love it.

I just bought a gallon of milk and a steak from the grocery store to have for lunch. When I got out to my truck, I realized that the gallon of milk that I purchased has the tiniest of holes in the bottom of the container. The hole was from a crease in the jug, which put me in a dilemma. I wasn't sure if I had hit the jug on something and made the crease myself, or if it was there the entire time I was walking around the store. I decided since it was just a little drip, that I would just take it home and not bother going back inside the store. Now there is a lake of milk in the bottom of my refrigerator, and I am chugging milk like it is going out of style. The problem with this, of course, is that it is impossible for the human digestive system to produce enough base to counter the lactic acid in an entire gallon of milk. If I look uncomfortable during Josip's talk at 1pm, you will know why.

While I was in the checkout line at the grocery store, I remembered the dream that I had last night. I met God, and he told me that I could have one non-water drink for the rest of my life. I chose root beer, because I like root beer quite a bit. Instantly, a bottle of A&W root beer appeared in my hand, so I opened it and enjoyed a nice long drink. Another man walked up to God, and God gave him the same choice. He looked at my A&W and said that he would like to have Sioux City Sarsaparilla for the rest of his life. My jaw hit the floor as I realized that I had made a horrible mistake, and I asked God if I too could have Sioux City Sarsaparilla. He told me no, and for questioning him sent me to downtown Dallas with a shirt that said "I Hate The Dallas Cowboys." That is the last thing I remember before I woke up.