E
EI 903
Guest
kiwifarms.net
Went to work today, business as usual, everything's fine. Except no, it's not fine. A stench demon has entered my serene world of moderately priced fragrances in the form of a 400+ pound woman and her pregnant looking husband. The woman is being pushed on a device I have never seen before, some wheelchair that has been jerry-rigged to keep the woman's bulbous form horizontal at all times. The smell surrounding her is unbelievable, some kind of rancid mix of fish, sweat, and the distinctive order of blood. I'm scared. They wheel towards me.
"Welcome to [store], what brings you guys in today?"
"Wa she say?" the stench demon croaked.
"She asked us 'howdy doo?", her husband hollered back. I swear on Chris- he really said that. I was officially in an unironic Mark Twain novel.
"Oh. Tell her I need the shower spray. And sanitizer. And ask her 'bout the cooty stuffs."
"You heared the wife. Hook her up with some shower spray." Except they didn't say "shower spray". It was more like "sure spry", and I had no idea what they were talking about.
"I'm sorry, what was that? Sure deodorant? We don't carry that product here. But I can help you find something similar!" No I can't. Disappear from my life so I can forget you.
"The SURE SPRY! THE SURE SPRY! The red bottle right there!" stench beast gestured wildly at an ordinary bottle of body spray. You know, the light fragrance mist you might spray on your arms and cloths to freshen up? Body spray. Just body spray.
"Did you perhaps mean our fine fragrance mist?" I asked.
"Yeah the sure spry. The spry you used stead of a sure." Oh, that explains the smell. Alright.
"Well, we don't recommend that that our products be used instead of a shower...perhaps after a shower would be more appropriate."
"Girl, I look like I can git in a sure?"
"Um. Well, maybe..., we have these really nice loofas with a handle..."
"Well wa bout the sanitizers? You still go thems?" I need to add that I would never recommend a person in her condition use any alcohol- based body products. Her skin was so pocked and thin and pale, I would be afraid the alcohol would instantly burn her.
I won't bore you with the details of me selling them miniature hand sanitizer, and selecting a "Sure spry" for the mrs. The real fun came when I tried to recommend a lotion to go with her new "sure spry".
"This is a great choice for someone who has sensitive skin. It has aloe in it, so it will feel cool against your skin." I demonstrated by placing a small amount of lotion on the back fat of her hand and rubbing it in. When I removed my hand from her, she extended her paw towards her husband and he dutifully licked it.
"Naw, this one don't taste no good," he determined.
"With all due respect sir, it isn't suppose to," I reminded them. He just chortled.
"Well, if I'm going to be tasting it, it better taste good!"
"I don't understa- oh. Okay. Wow. Well. Are you guys all set then? Ready to check out?" MOTHERFUCKER LEAVE MY PRESENCE BEFORE I GET MYSELF FIRED.
"Well this help the wife with her cooty bumps?"
"Sir?"
"When she shave her cooty it gets real red and bleeding. What we got to do to stop that?"
How do you even respond to that? How does one respond to the physical embodiment of yahoo answers? Unfortunately for me, this is not the first time I had been asked that particular question, so I actually knew exactly what to recommend (shave with lotion as a lubricant, moisturize with shea butter, and treat with no-bump anti- antiperspirant deodorant, for all you curious kiwis). I told him this, and his face lit up. Clearly he was thinking about all the creepy sex he was going to have with his nearly immobile wife.
Their grand total came to only 26 dollars, too little for me to make my sales plan or even close in on my daily sales goal. Motherfucking retail.
Those can't even be people. Those are horrific creatures from an Edward Lee short story escaped into our world. Jesus.