Rainbow

I have set my rainbow in the clouds, and it will be the sign of the covenant between me and the earth.

-Genesis 9:13

There is little doubt, at least in my mind, that god hates metrosexuals, and he outright abhors hipsters.

Which was proven to me once again, just this very evening.

The missus was waylaid with a hair appointment this evening after work, and therefore, I was left to mind, with my own devices, two tots, each in their own way full of vim and ready to wiggle.

With the pantry running low, and the children running hot, these varying interests converged in my mind, therefore, into a singular plot. Costco, it would be, with its glorious two-fer-seated carts and myriad snack stops, and the opportunity to shop for pantry stock with value.

The boy and the girl crammed neatly into place, two-astride, in the wide tandem shopping cart. The boy was directly distracted, hypnotic-like, by any number of shiny baubles, blinking lights and whirring whizz poppers. The girl, prudently, enjoyed the snack buffet.

With the cart loaded, and the parental distractions waning, we made a mad, though sluggish, dash for the the shortest check out line. Simultaneously, however, our targets slot was spied by a young woman with only one boxed item in her clutches.

She was tall, and bone-thin. Her blond hair was razor-sliced with severely tasteful angles. Her blue-striped sailor shirt was retro and ironic. Her too-tight, seat-worn, denim dungarees were emblazoned with sparkly bedazzled rainbows stitched across her emaciated ass.

If she were less waspy, she could have been a poster child for famine relief.

Her boyfriend, however, could have been the poster boy for the Apocalypse.

His clothes looked like something picked up from a macabre crime scene. His hairdo looked like a large-caliber exit wound. At 5'10" he was shorter than his girl, and about 40 pounds lighter. His unimaginable tight pants revealed thighs the width of my forearm. His fat-less paper-like complexion betrayed the intricate bony details of his skull.

He could not have weighed, as a grown man, more than 110 pounds, with his wicked fierce Doc Martens on, no less...

The Gestapo girlfriend eyed me as we converged on the checkout lane. They had only one item, and I am not always a complete prick, so I smiled and nodded, allowing them to go first.

She rolled her eyes in that arrogant fascist hipster-superior way... and assumed her rightful place in front of me, turning her gaunt rainbow-clad ass in my direction. Her wraith-like man-slave fluttered past me and stepped up to pay for their purchase.

And just what exactly was it that they were purchasing? Well, I'm glad you asked. For you see, the one and only thing the bulimia twins were buying was a Costco-sized case of weight-loss breakfast shakes.

I smiled at their misery, their fucked up self-image and utter lack of descent self-esteem. I snickered at their misplaced superiority. I gaped with glee at the sad little rainbow as it walked away from me.

Once outside, the kids and I discovered that it had started raining. Well, misting more like it, and we made yet another mad dash for the car as the sun crept out from behind an angry-looking storm cloud. As we pulled out, the girl giddily yelped, and pointed out a remarkably-bright rainbow in the sky.

A serious goddamn double rainbow, end-to-end, with the entire spectrum of visible light waves on refracted display. It seemed, perhaps, that God agreed with me in the end, and that he does, in fact, hate hipsters too.

Woe to the fashionably ironic, for they shall die of malnutrition...