You Know I Don't Like White Shirts

I spotted the real Napoleon Dynamite yesterday in T.J. Maxx. It's true. I know what you're thinking. We're a long way from Boise, Kip. But I promise, it was the real deal. Let me tell you the story and you can see for yourself.

So I had wandered away from my mother who was diligently searching the junk shelves in the back for something that didn't have fruit painted on it or a weird African tribal mask jeering about. I can never find any clothes for myself in the crowded aisles, so I decided to try to find the perfect Hawaiian shirt for my dad. As I rounded the corner I could hear someone talking on their cell phone in a husky, Napoleon-esque tone. Curious, I listened to what he was saying:

I can't decide whether to get a medium or a large. What size do I normally wear?

Sounds like a fairly normal request. Then I see who is speaking. An awkward, gangly man, probably about 27, with thick, plastic rimmed glasses, protruding lips, bad courduroy pants and a tight vintage shirt. SCORE! I kept eavesdropping as I admired some polo shirts hanging on the back wall:

I think I'm gonna go with the medium...No...I'll call you later...Okay, bye Mom.

Did he just say Mom? Jackpot! Uncle Rico must have gone back to the desert. I tried to contain my excitement as I skipped over to my mom who was checking out bathing suit cover-ups. Yes, it's that time of year folks. After perusing the store for a few more minutes, we decide on a few polos for my brothers and head to the line to check out. And who is in front of us? That's right. Napoleon! He's buying his new shirt. Oh...wait...what's this? He's pulling out his cell phone again! Could this day get any better? Oh yes, my friend, it can! As he steps to the side of the line, admiring the clearance bin at the end of the register, this is what unfolds:

Hey Mom. Are you guys still looking for a barbecue set? Because I'm at T.J. Maxx and there's this really sweet one and it's on sale.

Time out! Is this the same mom he just called from the same store? Ah, but the saga continues.

Oh, okay...Yeah I'm gonna get this shirt. Except, it's mostly white, and you know I don't like white shirts. But it's Le Tigre. It's pretty cool...Yeah, I know, I'm getting it, gosh!...Okay, I'll call you later. Mom, I'll call you later! I gotta go, I'm checking out...Okay, bye.

At this point, my cheeks hurt from clenching them to keep from bursting into laughter. My mom, seeing that I am about to be very rude and inappropriate, tells me to go outside before I do anything. I proceed to walk out of the door and call my brother and tell him about my luck, half laughing to myself because I just bought him the same mostly white shirt. But it's Le Tigre!