(When I was a teenager I worked in a skateboard shop in the mall. I was working with my buddy and we see a loud, filthy group of guys coming down the hall towards our store.)
Loud, filthy customer #1: ”You guys sell hackie sacks, the kind with sand in ‘em?”
Me: ”Yup, right there.” *pointing*
Loud, filthy customer #2: “What’s the return policy?”
Me: “Thirty days with a receipt.”
Loud, filthy customer #2: ”So, if I shoot this hackie sack with mah sawed-off 12-gauge and run it over in mah truck, you’ll still take it back? HAW HAW!”
Me: ”Heh, no. Thanks, guys.”
(They leave. All the while, my coworker has been there, arms crossed, not moving an inch, with a cold, dead, angry stare.)
Coworker: ”Cousins need to STOP f***ing.”
(I’d never laughed so hard in my life.)
