20 minutes later Tom comes walking out of the Gulag, clearly pissed off, his beady little eyes straining to express anger.
"Swami, that was FUCKED UP dude." He said, slamming is hand on the counter.
"What? Tom, get a fucking grip. She's not interested in you and you are WAY TOO FUCKING OLD FOR HER."
"Oh yeah? Well there's a spark there. She likes me. You can't deny that she has a thing for me!
Did you see the way she waved at me?"
"Did you hear the way she laughed when Justin completely shut your ass down? Stop being such a shithead, Tom, and give it up. Enough, this is over."
"It's not up to you!"
"You're right, but I can still do something about it. Leave her alone, man. She's a customer and you're harassing her."
"It's not harassment!" Just as Tom said this, Justin and Nicole came in. They were holding hands. Justin works fast, I'll give him that.
"Hey kids." I said, standing up from my stool. Tom stomped up to Justin.
"This isn't over!" he said, fuming mad and storming out the door. Justin and Nicole rolled their eyes and went over to the table to start up another game.
The next day was a Sunday and the store was especially busy. Justin came in a little early, holding a stack of papers.
"Hey Justin, what's up?" I asked, surprised to see him in so early.
"Dude, you have to see what I found on the internet." He turned his stack of papers around.
What greeted me was a black and white photocopied image of Tom, completely nude, standing in front of his bed, his meaty little hand gripping a tiny appendage I could only assume was supposed to be his penis. His hair was sticking up all over and he had a big shit-eating grin on his face. I burst into an epic laugh that must have lasted 10 minutes long. I actually fell off my stool.
"Dude, that is fucking SICK! Oh my GOD!" I said. "Put that shit away!"
"Hell no man! Is Tom here?"
"Yeah, he's in the back, but..."
Nicole walked in and smiled upon seeing Justin.
"Hey!" she said, walking up to him and giving him a hug from behind.
"Hey Nicole, check this..." He didn't even finish his sentence before Nicole saw the photo and burst into laughter, covering her mouth with her hand. Justin grinned and sauntered on back to the Gulag. I didn't follow, and neither did Nicole. We sat and waited.
Sometimes I dream that I'm sitting in the back of the defunct Weinermobile as it careens driverless down the highway. At first I thought this was symbolic of the powerlessness I feel in life, but then I realized it's actually the Weinermobile's dream of being able to drive again.
Three years ago, when we were burying my uncle, Cleaver and some gross lady dog (Solstice???) showed up at the cemetery and starting going at it really loudly. It ruined everything and we had to have a "re-do" the next day and it cost a fortune. I've hated him ever since for that.
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