“Did you pick up those Beenie Man tickets like I asked you, Horace?”

“You bet. And I also grabbed a fresh pair of Wishbone Ash tickets. Right off of the presses. Here. You can still smell the ink.”

“Hmmm… I love the smell of freshly printed tickets in the evening. Don’t you?”

“I sure do, Zelda, but…”

“But what, Horace? Oh, you don’t mean that man was there again.”

“That’s right, Zelda, and you wouldn’t believe what he did. While I was standing in line, he walks in, and tries to cut in front of the first person in the line.”

“I’ll bet that didn’t go over too well with the clerk.”

“I should say not, Zelda. The clerk told him to step to the end of the line. That’s when things got real ugly.”

“Oh?”

“Uh, uh. The man looked at the clerk and said, ‘You’re making me angry. You wouldn’t like me when I’m angry.’ And that’s when his eyes turned a menacing shade of green, his muscles started bulging and all the buttons on his shirt popped off.”

“No!”

“But that’s not all, Zelda. His shirt was in shreds, his skin turned green and his chest must have expanded at least three, maybe four shirt sizes. He looked like a… a… A monster! An incredible, bulked-up monster!”

“Then what happened?”

“That’s when he went over to the display case. You know, where they keep the ticket demo models?”

“Like those sample tickets for Sum 41 and Barry Manilow?”

“That’s right, Zelda. He bent over, grabbed the display case on both ends and lifted the case up over his head.”

“You’re kidding! Those display tickets must weigh a ton. I didn’t think anybody could lift them.”

“He could. Then, with the display case held over his head, he grunted a couple of times, and threw the case across the room, right towards the ticket clerk.”

“Oh, my. That poor clerk. Is he all right?”

“He’s okay. He ducked down behind the counter. However, the case smashed up against the wall and sent all the tickets flying across the room, including the new tickets for MxPx, Billy Talent and Gov’t Mule.”

“That’s terrible!”

“You’re telling me. Luckily, the clerk managed to hit the panic button. You know, the silent Ticketmaster alarm that’s a direct line to the Homeland Security offices? By the time the man had grabbed all the Bette Midler tickets, there were three National Guard tanks waiting for him right outside the store.”

“I’ll bet he was singing a different tune when he saw those tanks.”

“You would think so, Zelda. But he just shrugged, then picked up the first tank and heaved it down the street. Then, while clutching a handful of tickets for Bob Dylan and Melissa Etheridge, he leapfrogged over the remaining tanks and went bounding down the street.”

“He got away?”

“That’s right, Zelda. The National Guard was still looking for him when I left.”

“Let me get this straight. He walks into the Ticketmaster, tries to cut to the head of the line, and when the clerk tells him he’s going to have to wait his turn, his eyes turn green, his muscles grow so big that his shirt turns to shreds, and then he starts trashing the place. Then he picks up a National Guard tank, tosses it down the street like it was made of paper, and then runs away. Why, that’s… that’s… Incredible! I just don’t believe it”

“Told you.”

“I mean, I had always heard that Dr. Phil could be a real pain when he has to wait in line, but this is amazing.”

“Isn’t it, though? Luckily he wasn’t with Oprah. Otherwise it would have been a real mess.”