This morning, I couldn’t get my belt to buckle without a fight, and when I did get it, it was a hole shorter than usual. I thought I was getting fat, and had clumsy fingers. Turns out, I had my belt the wrong way around. So I’m still just as thin, just as nimble, and just as stupid as usual.
I was hanging out with my friend, Hank, who works in a liquor store, and a guy in his early to mid-twenties comes in with a grin approximately three times the size of his face. ”Do you guys have tequila?”
"Sure do." Hank says. "What kind do you like? This one," he picks up a bottle of Cabo Wabo, "is my favorite. If you’re looking for something stronger, there’s—"
"What would you recommend for getting a girl drunk?" He says, still smiling.
"Shopping somewhere else."
The guy laughs.
"No, really." Hank says. "What about the way I look made you think that’s an okay thing to say to me?"
The guy continues to laugh for a bit, “Don’t judge me, bro.”
"I’m going to judge you, BRO, because you walked into my store and asked what kind of alcohol I would recommend for date raping someone."
Still smiling, the guy says “You can’t talk to me like that. I’m a customer. You’re a business. It’s your job to be nice to me or I won’t come back.”
"Please don’t come back. I don’t want to be an accessory."