I was in Barnes & Noble the other day picking up a book I had ordered a week earlier. Before I went through the checkout and paid full Barnes & Noble price for the book when I could have ordered it discounted at Amazon.com but I like paying full price, I decided to go peruse the Artsy / Craftsy department to see if there might be other books I required for continued life sustenance.

At this point I feel I must acknowledge and applaud Barnes & Noble’s highly effective use of subliminal sensory marketing in the form of Starbucks coffee and upbeat classical music. I mean seriously. Have you actually ever made it out of that place without buying something? Methinks not.

As I meandered to my favorite corner of the store, a young boy of no more than six years narrowed the parabola of his running path through the store, brushing my arm and very nearly knocking me on my ass. “WHHHOA!” said I.

The boy’s father, who I’m pretty sure is the actual Marlboro Man, saw the near-miss and said to the boy, “BOY! WATCH WHERE YOU’RE GOIN!”

Just that.

No “Sorry bout that little missy,” no “Tell the nice pretty lady excuse me,” no “Please pardon my pinball son.” The Marlboro Man so obviously hadn’t read anything from the Etiquette department.

But I digress. I guess.

I finished up in Artsy / Craftsy and, not finding anything I don’t already have gathering dust on my toilet tank, decided to have a gander through the magazine aisle. But guess who beat me to it. You got it. Marlboro Man and his spawn son were already there leafing through I-kid-you-not American Woodworker.

And, since I needed to pass in front of the two of them to get to the latest edition of Star People The Atlantic, I channeled my best Emily Post and used this new-fangled catchphrase I’ve been trying out lately. “Excuse me,” said I. “Uh-huh,” said Marlboro Man.

A couple of minutes passed and another little missy needed to pass. She too was the pinnacle of politeness. “Excuse me,” said she. “Uh-huh,” said Marlboro Man again.

BUT LO! Marlboro Boy decided to speak this time as well!

“Dad,” said he, “When you fart you say ‘excuse me’.”

And Marlboro Man, his face rapidly changing from certitude to chagrin, replied, “Yup, I sure do, son. I sure do.”

And that my friends is what you call Okie Manners.

The end.