When I was a little kid, I misunderstood a conversation between my parents and thought that we were broke. Like live in a cardboard box broke. And not a fancy cardboard box, like the ones that would have been used to transport fancy pieces of European furniture with far too many consonants in their name. A few days later was my first cub scout meeting. When we got to the part where they told us how much the uniforms cost (like $30?) I was sure that it would bankrupt my family completely — and that maybe someone would try to make me eat Spam. (!!!) So, I decided that I wasn’t going to join, even though I really wanted to make and race the little bastard cars. I told various people that I didn’t want to join because I’d have to wear that scarf.
And shockingly they bought it, even though it should have been obvious to EVERYONE that I would have rocked the shit out of that kerchief-looking son of a bitch.