Half-baked patriotism

There it was at the supermarket, a display of holiday baked goods. I whipped out the phone camera and framed a vision of frosting in red, white and blue.

The store manager was at my side. "Can I help you?"

"Just taking a picture," I said, snapping one shot and angling my phone for another.

"Any particular reason why?" he asked.

"I like the cake," I said, snapping another image, then raising the camera to get a wider shot.

"This is private property," he said. "We don't allow taking pictures."

"Those cakes have American flags on them," I wanted to say. "People will cut into the flag, eat the flag, and then shit out the flag of the United States of America. Isn't that a desecration? "

"Really? I never heard of such a thing," I said. I flipped the phone closed, slipped it into my pocket and walked away.


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