No Frozen Yogurt? That's Cold

Matt Bors

You might not think it to look at me, but I am losing my house that I have worked my whole life for because it is going into foreclosure. Last night I discovered we no longer have TV, phone or Internet—it’s all been shut off. I figured I better do what I could to keep my cell service. So a friend loaned me a couple of hundred dollars, and I went to the bank to deposit the check so I can make a quick payment on my cell. I decided to take out $20 so I could get my kids some frozen yogurt; I felt kind of bad there’d be no TV or Internet when we got home, and soon they are probably going to be sharing a room in some dingy apartment. Somehow at the ATM, well, I dropped a couple of items, and I thought I had picked everything up . . . and suddenly, there you were, a big black lady with ghetto-fabulous hair and nails. I saw you bow and pick something up and quickly pocket it. I went on my merry way, picking up my kids and hitting Yogurtland. I watched my kids fill their cups with happy smiles because I am always so stingy—and here I was springing for yogurt after school! Then, at the cash register, I realized what you had done. You bitch—you stole my last $20. I have never felt as awful in my life as the moment when I had to tell my kids to say goodbye to those yogurts. I hope you go straight to hell.

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