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This is NOT the Maltese Falcon, Dr. Jones before/after I got my usual chocolate milk and donuts on the way to work this morning. Started munching on a donut, opened up my chocolate milk, and nothing poured out. It was globbed up in there like old congealed fat from marlon brando's 1988 liposuction operation. Ick. I always stop at the same place, and they always give me this surly 'I am more important than this job would indicate' attitude. But I can deal. What bothers me is when they ring up my merchandise. I know I shouldn't care, but they grab my donuts, which are in a plastic bag, and paw at them like it was some long lost relic and they're Indiana Jones. They crane their head near the stuff like they're trying to read heiroglyphics. Sometimes they cough. I want to grab my food and snap, "Hey, I'm gonna' fucking eat that, Rajeesh!" That really is his name. But I really don't know where the line of acceptable behavior is in this case. And early in the morning, I try not to interact with the annoying or intellectually challenged, to lessen the probablility of comitting a felony before noon.(Assault with intent to do great bodily harm, comes to mind. Lay off my donuts, cheif! Its not like this is yer' daughter I'm taking away from you. You act like I'm taking your daughter to some hump-hump joint where she's gonna' work off yer' gambling debt for the next four years! They're fucking donuts! Let it go! )
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