Noteable Customers #1This grocery store sees, on average, about 3,000 customers a day. Compared to a lot of stores, this isn’t much. Out of those thousands of passing faces, there’s a select few who keep coming back—whether it be once a week or every day.
Here’s a few.
THE CREEPY SLOB
This guy comes in every few days and buys the same things: Chips, beer, and dog food. I understand the chips and beer, but something tells me he doesn’t even own a dog. This guy is gross. His clothes are always filthy, he smells like horse shit and sweaty crotch, and his hair looks like he just dipped it in a vat of bacon grease.
The Slob is not only disgusting, but creepy. He fucking stares at me while I’m stocking the checkstands, then quickly turns away when I look at him. He has a lazy eye, which is pretty handy, because he can stare at me AND the Starbucks barista at the same time!
I swear this guy wears the same clothes every time I see him. Fiddy bux says he hasn’t changed them at all. Or showered in like a year. Christ, he smells horrible. The checkers and I always know when he walks into the store because this sharp odor starts wafting through the air. Go home and eat your dog food, Creepy Slob.
THE ALIEN CARRIER
This lady comes in with her litter of four crotch-droppings once a week. They each can’t be more than a year apart, and big surprise—she’s expecting another one, because Catholics don’t believe in birth control or some shit. She doesn’t speak English, nor do any of her kids.
I fucking hate kids. I especially fucking hate these kids, because they’re always running around the store unsupervised, screaming at the top of their lungs, breaking stuff and stealing candy. Can I tell the Alien Carrier to control them? No, because she doesn’t understand a god damn word out of my mouth.
This woman is obviously in the country illegally, and honestly, I don’t care. What pisses me off is the fact that she pays with food stamps. She doesn’t pay taxes, she shouldn’t get those. I hate that I’m paying to feed these asshole kids of hers as I’m cleaning up the broken wine bottle they just knocked over.
She scribbles her makeup on like a clown. Her Sharpie-eyebrows are arched so hardcore she looks unnaturally angry, and she lines her red lips in black. Fucking BLACK. Not dark brown or anything, because that would be too reasonable. But fine, I can deal.
What I can’t deal with is how her clothes NEVER FIT, EVER. Her nasty stretch-marked pregnant gut hangs out below her saggy tits. She makes absolutely sure her jogging pants are low enough so the world can see her sexy pimpled asscrack.
No wonder her kids are so bad. I’d be pissed too if my mother was a whore.
THE PARROT GUY
This guy…Is fucking AWESOME.
He looks strangely like Dr. Steel, and I wouldn’t be surprised if he was a mad scientist too. In fact, I have no idea what this guy does. That’s his beauty: No one knows what he does, who he is, or what the little green parrot on his shoulder is for. Nobody even knows his name, which usually shows up on a receipt when you use a savings card. This means he never signed up for a savings card even though he comes in maybe once every two weeks. He’s too fukken badass for a sweet deals.
He’s probably in his 40’s, really tall and skinny. He wears these dark round glasses, sometimes a stylish but sensible hat. He always dresses in fancy suit-jackets and slacks. Most importantly, he carries a tiny green parrot-thing on his shoulder. I’m guessing The Parrot Guy is some kind of secret agent or maybe even an assassin. The parrot is probably really a high-tech gadget disguised as a bird.
I’ve never heard him say a word, except “Thank you.” as he leaves. He drives this really nice white car and never buys more than a handful of random things. Cheese and tuna mostly. Yeah, I always thought he looked like a cheese’ntuna type of guy.
There are plenty more regulars to be mocked. I don’t even know where to start.