The Tide Coupon Conspiracy

(Told by an Unreliable Narrator)

Ah, yes. I remember it vividly—though, admittedly, my memory tends to wander like a raccoon in a laundromat. But I swear this part is true… mostly.

It all began one rainy Tuesday in the fluorescent-lit underworld of Couponopolis, a secret society of bargain hunters so elite, most cashiers dare not speak their names. Among them was Mildred “The Clip Queen” Pendergrass, a retired librarian turned extreme couponer who had uncovered whispers of the Holy Grail of laundry savings: the elusive $2.00 Tide coupon—free. Printable. Unlimited.

Some said it was a myth, others called it marketing sorcery. But Mildred? Oh, she believed. She had a coupon binder reinforced with Kevlar, a thermal printer in her purse, and a barcode scanner embedded in her ring finger. Obsessed? Absolutely. But that’s what the detergent wars do to a woman.

Now, here’s where things get murky.

They say Mildred found the legendary coupon on a strange website—one that only appeared during leap years, under the glow of a blood moon. She clicked “Print,” and suddenly the power in her house surged, her cat began reciting Shakespeare in Latin, and the printer spat out exactly seven glowing coupons, each embossed with a seal of Poseidon and the words: “Tide to cleanse the sins of fabric.”

Naturally, she tried to use one at Walmart.

The cashier, a former Navy cryptographer named Darren, scanned it once, looked around nervously, and pressed a hidden button under the counter. Sirens blared. Sirens! In Walmart! Mildred was whisked away by agents in aprons embroidered with the Tide logo. Corporate laundry ninjas, I think.

What happened next is... well, no one really knows. Some say she was taken to Procter & Gamble’s subterranean lab where they interrogated her with scented dryer sheets. Others claim she became part of the Tide formula—yes, like, spiritually emulsified.

But one thing’s certain: the coupons still exist. They appear from time to time on random printers across the country—only to those who truly believe... and who have exactly 37% ink remaining. Coincidence? I think not.

And me? Oh, I never tried to print one. Of course not. I’m far too sensible. Except… well, that blinking light on my printer has been flashing since last night… and my cat just said something about “rebates in the abyss.”

Anyway, don’t worry about that.

About the Author
When Anton is not decoding laundry-related conspiracies or eavesdropping on sentient coupons, his mysterious mind behind his tale spins unreliable stories that might be true… or might be marketing-induced fever dreams. Read more suspiciously entertaining nonsense at The Great Tide Coupon Caper