Wednesday, April 8, 2009



I swear to fucking god, from this point onward I'm going to steadfastly deny that I've ever even heard of Insane Clown Posse, and I'm DEFINITELY not going to admit that I enjoy a song or two of theirs. I've had to deal with a few Juggalos lately, almost all of them kids that reek of failure and don't have a brain cell in their heads.

I had just finished stocking the beer cooler, (which was bare-bones and mostly empty before and after I dealt with it by the way), and headed to the front of the shop to open the doors when I was greeted by the manic grin of a short young man covered in sharpie. I yanked the "Back in 20 minutes - stocking cooler" sign down off the glass door, unfortunately destroying it's already mostly torn in half form.

"That wasn't 20 minutes! That was only five! Well, since I got here at least. I'm so bored I've been counting the seconds," he said, speaking more quickly than you would assume a sober person would speak.

He had managed to get most of the ink off of his face, but you could still manage to read "FAGO" on his forehead, and on his neck was an asterisk, and arrow pointing to it and the word "HICKIE".

He bought a burrito with food stamps and announced "Don't you love Oregon Law? I'm a paying customer for 24 hours so I can just go ahead and stay here as long as I like, and your boss couldn't kick me out if he wanted to. I love this country, don't you?" I tried to keep smiling. I don't like it when people try to tell me how it's going to be on my turf, but I bit my tongue and didn't bother telling him that we reserve the right to refuse service to anyone, meaning why yes I could kick him out at any time I please.

Probably should have, 'coz as soon as a customer came in, he stood right by them chattering at me like a gibbon on all sorts of bizarre subjects. Soon enough he mentioned "God I wish you guys sold Faygo here." The man he was standing far to close to was frowning, trying to ignore him and failing.

"Yeah, that'd be pretty great." I said halfheartedly.

"Wait. WAIT. You know what Faygo is!?"

"Yeah, of course."

"OH SHIT. EPIC. WIN." What? No. NO. "You know ICP?"


He started reciting ICP lyrics.

As the poor man left, the boy stood just out of camera range, perhaps by some unholy instinct, and lifted up his hoodie revealing a small japanese blade tucked under his belt and announced, "THAT AIN'T A NOIFE, DIS IS A NOIFE! HAW HAW!"

The word "What." escaped my lips.

"Yeah check this shit out! I got my naginata with me!" I didn't point out that his letter-opener sized japanese blade wasn't a naginata. Those are much, much larger weapons, essentially a sword at the end of a pole and certainly not concealable. "Yeah my friend let me borrow it in case I get jumped! I got jumped the other day, took on thirteen russians before the rest held me down and kicked my head around like chicken shits."

Believable. Did I mention he couldn't stand more than 5'4" or weigh more than 150lbs? It didn't take him much time to start talking about how he was in Iraq with the marines as a lance corporal, also a sniper, had all sorts of special privilages 'coz he was just so badass. So believable.

Soon enough he mentioned that his girlfriend wound up pregnant about two weeks ago, and that he's happy about it since he just found out that day but proposed to her a few days prior, which she accepted. I suppose that's why I didn't just call the cops as soon as he left. Regardless, standing outside as I was taking a break in the fantasticly warm spring night, I decided to pick his brain and ask him about boot camp and what he did in the Marines.

He spoke on his favorite kill, which if it's true, he definitely earned my congratulations on. Waiting for some high ranking target in his sniping position he was looking through his scope to kill three hours time. Sweeping over the area he noticed a little girl being raped by a man in his 40's and radioed in, "Permission to terminate a child molester."

"Fucking GRANTED." was the supposed reply.

So that's pretty cool. Or at least, if it's true it is.

It took at least two hours for him to finally leave, with one period of time where I explained "Hey I've got some work to do in back that requires that I have the store empty and the door locked, so I gotta boot ya real quick" hoping that he'd just leave.

Did he leave?

Of course not!

I would be so lucky.

Upon his return he told me how he was planning to rob the store if there was a woman behind the counter, and how he would do it.

I let him talk. He had the knife.


  1. Wow. For one shining moment, I wished I worked at a Plaid Pantry.


  2. "Wait. WAIT. You know what Faygo is!?"

    "Yeah, of course."

    "OH SHIT. EPIC. WIN." What? No. NO. "You know ICP?"

    ...if that kill is true, he earns points.

  3. Don't get stabbed I like you Mr. Internet Plaid Pantry Man. :(