Me: Hey, there. Long time, no talk. How's it going?
Dude: Good. Super horny. You?
Me: I'm doing laundry. The unsexiest chore.
Dude: I bet you could make it sexy.
Me: I don't think so. Dryers can't consent.
Dude: Our conversations never go the way I hope.
Me: Sorry, but I am like this All The Time.
Selina: GOOD MORNING!
Me: Ugh. What do you want?
Selina: YOUR ALARM DIDN'T GO OFF. IF YOU GET UP NOW YOU CAN STILL GET TO WORK ON TIME. BUT YOU MUST HURRY.
Me: Fine. Thanks.
Selina: AREN'T I JUST THE BEST CAT EVER? I'M SO HELPFUL. I EVEN VOMITED RIGHT NEXT TO THE VACUUM CLEANER. WATCH YOUR STEP ON THE WAY TO THE BATHROOM.
Me: No one likes you.
Random Clueless Person: "Hi. I'm looking for a collection of comics for my boyfriend."
Me: "Sure thing. What's it called?"
RCP: "I don't know. It's a collection of comics."
Me: "That's, like, three quarters of our store. Do you know what it was about?"
Me: "Can you ... find out the title?"
RCP: "It's definitely not The Flash."
Me: "That's specific but not helpful."
RCP: "It's volume ten."
RCP: "Not The Flash."
Me: "You are going to have to call him and find out the name."
RCP makes exasperated noise. It's not at me. They're not being entitled. It's a noise of frustration that the world is too complicated.
RCP: "Can I just look around?"
I go back to putting comics away.
RCP: "Kramer's Ergot!"
Me: "Wow. Yea, that wouldn't have been in my first five hundred guesses."
RCP: "Do you have it?"
Me: "Right here. Volume ten."
RCP: "How do I pay for it?"
Me: "Just bring it over to my coworker, and they'll check you out."
They walk past my coworker.
Coworker: "Over here, darling."
They walk past my coworker in the other direction.
RCP: "I'm too short."
They are not. They are of average height and, like all but small children, have to put something down on the counter, not reach up to it.
Eventually they get to the right spot, pay for the comic, and cheerfully walk out the door. Probably into oncoming traffic.
"We can do it right here. No one can hear us." I heard her say before I shut my window.
Sleepy mental rolodex couldn't parse the name "Gene Wilder" and insisted to my memory that Gene Hackman starred in "Charlie And The Chocolate Factory".
Dude at 1:45: "I'm tired. We should crash."
Me: "We can't crash until 2:30."
Me: "Don't ask. Let's just watch another episode of Brooklyn 99."
At 2:15, Motherfucker jumps on the bed and curls up on my leg.
Dude: "Did your cat just sigh?"
Selina: "GUESSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS WHAT I HAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAVE?"
Me: "Shut up, Selina."
Selina: "HERE'S A CLUE! YOU WEAR ONE ON YOUR FEET IN THE DAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAYTIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIME."
Dude: "Is that my sock?"
Me: "Let her have it. It used to be a ball, but Goose destroyed that. Then it was one of my socks, until I hid them all in the drawer. Then she started bringing me the paper towel roll. It will always be something."
Dude: "Every night?"
Me: "At precisely 2:15. And if I close the door, she won't stop until I open the door. And if I try playing with her at 1:45, she'lll run away and hide. And if I pick her up at 2:00 and keep her trapped in a cuddle, she waits until I fall asleep and then announces whatever it is she can get her paws on, the moment she riggles free. "
Selina: "IT'S A SOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOCK."
Dude: "Has she always done this?"
Me: "No. I've had this cat for ten years. She's always been loud, but she didn't start having such a rigid play schedule until I moved into this place."
Dude: "You should move again. And maybe leave her behind."
Selina: "I'LL ALWAYS FIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIIND YOU LIKE I FOUND THIS SOCK!"
Dude: "How long does she --"
Me: "She's got one more meow and then she'll go hang out in the window."
Selina: "I LOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOVE THE WINDOW. I'M GONNA GO IN THE WINDOW NOW!"
Motherfucker loudly exhales.
Me: "Ok. Now we can go to sleep."
Me: I'm pretty exhausted. Maybe I'll put on the ship reveal scene from Star Trek The Motion Picture. That should put me to sleep.
Dude: Aren't you worried you'll fall into another coma?
BvPP: "You know Wolverine is a very popular character."
BvPP: "Yea. A lot of people don't know that."
Me: "How is someone popular if a lot of people don't know they're popular?"
BvPP: "Do you have a Marvel Presents section?"
I had some non-stressful bank stuff to do this morning, so I was four minutes late for work. A seventy-something year old Very White Guy was yanking on the door with very little success.
Me: "Sorry. I was at the bank." I open the door. "Come on in."
VWG: "Your sign said you open at 11:00."
Me: "Yes. I was at the bank getting change, and it took longer than it should have. I'm sorry about the three minute delay."
VWG: "Do you have classic comics?"
Me: "Are there any particular titles you're looking for?"
VWG: "CLASSIC COMICS. From the 1940s and 1950s."
Me: "Classics Illustrated?"
VWG: "NO. CLASSIC COMICS."
Me: "Here's our back issue bins, they're arranged by title, and within the title they're chronological, so our oldest comics are up front. We also have a nostalgia section over--" He is on his phone not listening to me. "--by the hive of angry hornets that we keep to hand out customer satisfaction surveys."
I go back behind the counter to put the change away.
After a few minutes staring at his phone NOT looking at any comics. VWG: "These aren't classic comics."
Me: "Over here we have collections of newspaper comics and EC books from the 1940s and 50s. Are these more what you're looking for?"
VWG: "CLASSIC. COMICS."
Me: "Classics Illustrated? The comic versions of books like Huckleberry Finn and The Great Gatsby?"
VWG: "CLASSIC. COMICS. How long have you worked here that you don't know --"
I walk over to the Classics Illustrated section. Me: "THESE?"
VWG: "Yea. CLASSIC. COMICS."
Me: "CLASSICS. ILLUSTRATED. They renamed the book in 1947. I don't think there are any Classic Comics issues floating around, but if you're in another store ask for Classics Illustrated, and the people working there will be able to lead you to the right place in their store."
VWG: "Back in my day--"
A hooded figure carrying a scythe raises his hood in our direction. I shake my head, trying to convey "Not in here, please." The hood vanishes. Briefly, the air twinkles where the scythe was.
VWG: "These were ten cents and called Classic Comics. How much are they now?"
Me: "The price is on the back."
VWG: "TEN? DOLLARS?"
VWG: "Where can I get these things for ten cents a piece?"
Me: "Before 1950, when the price went up to fifteen cents. But you're not going to find any comics for ten cents in 2019."
VWG: "I'll take my business elsewhere, then."
Me, under my breath, "Tell the clerk in 1948 that society won't improve in their lifetime."
Dude: "I still think about you, Adam. I see you in the eyes of every kind face, in the laugh of every child."
Me: "I'm told that if you look clearly into the eyes of any kind person, you can see the reflection of the last person who thought of murdering them. And, let's be real, all laughing children sound at least moderately insane."