Private: “All Duane Reades are unhappy stores”

From Mr. Beller’s story of the week, War and Duane Reade, by Said Sayrafiezadeh:

It was 9 PM and I was out of Breathe Right strips. If I don’t have Breathe Right strips I can’t sleep soundly, so I put on my coat and my orange button that has a photograph of a very sweet looking little Iraqi girl and the words, “Stop the War on Iraq,” and I rode my bicycle to Duane Reade, located on Sixth Avenue between Twelfth and Thirteenth Street….

“We’re going to kill that motherfucker tonight,” the man said to me. “Hell, yeah!” He was gleeful and he was egging me on. I could tell he was just getting started and that he was preparing to ride me throughout my entire transaction with the cashier, and throughout my entire time in the store. My emasculation was unfolding before my eyes….