Having never met a weirdo I didn't like
to make fun of, I am pretty jazzed about this place being chock-full of 'em.
Yeah, the barrel is filled to the brim with the crackpots.
You know how you watch a favorite tv show and say to yourself...I've got a clown just.like.that at the office, restaurant, train, etc...?
Chances are you have probably also rubbed elbows with one of these fine people.
I was lucky enough to meet The Nutty Professor on my very first day.
Klump's doppelganger can be found most days at the soup counter. He isn't hard to spot...he's the size of Sherman...has the bushy mustache and jiggly belly, just like Sherman...and did I mention the voice? Oh..the voice. Oh, shit. The voice is uncanny.
"Hellllllllllo...I'd like a bowl of your hottttttttttttt deeeeeelishhhhhhhious sooooooup. I sure wish I had a bucket to take the left-overs home. "
Currently our new menu of "homemade soups" has replaced the frozen bag variety. And, Sherman gives the soup counter two chubby thumbs up.
His only complaint? There is never enough.
Unlike the even-tempered professor, we entertain the typical "are-you-frickin-kidding-me" complaints daily.
One of the top complainers? That would be Krystal Meth.
This bitch is nuttier than a shit-house rat. Much like Sweet Brown and her issues with the bronchitis, Kryssy ain't got no time for no "essaplanations".
Sorry, Krystal...ain't nobody got time for stupid questions.
Yep, darlin' be sure to check out our sign on your way out...there ain't no golden arches now, are there?
Sorry, little lady...that's what a buck is fetching these days...crappy watered down sludge. Wanna play? Ya gots to pay.
Sweet Brown's very distant cousin Krystal is seemingly harmless. Your average just-too-ignorant-to-know-any-better type of customer.
The biggest pain-in-the-ass to enter the cafe is the Olympic champion of complainers.
And...drum-roll, please....I give you...well, I give you...Cheapskate Chelsea.
Chelsea has the face of a horse and the personality of a dishrag. If I had to describe the tightwad is one word it would be simple.
She shows up with a pocket full of change and is only interested in purchases that ring up 75 cents or less. There is no doubt in my mind that Chelsea would buy dingle-berries on a stick as long as they were on special for less than three quarters.
Or seventy-five pennies. It all depends on her mood...and if her meds are tweaked.
Some days we get a gift. Those are the days when her mood and proper med dosage worlds collide. And, Cheapskate Chels decides to shop the dollar counter.
Be still my heart as the little lady cranks up the crazy and rips off the knob...once she slapped the dollar's worth of tapioca pudding on the counter and pulled this puppy out of her pocket.
For every pain-in-the-ass that darkens the doorstep each day there are at least a hundred cooperative even-tempered customers. So, screw you weirdos ... it isn't me...it's you.
You better believe I'm crossing my fingers in hopes karma takes care of the asshats in spades.
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