That's when I knew I was dealing with a lunatic...

     Many years ago during the baby years of the store the area it's in was a vibrant and busy area. Many new guests were constantly walking into the store and numbers of truly spergian, frightening and disturbing were still very low. This gentleman that I'm about to tell you about was in retrospect the first of what I began to call wandering monsters. This is the tale of scary "dutch wear wood teeth" homeless crazy guy....
     It was early Summer on a slow Sunday afternoon , if memory serves, and the previous store owner and myself were just relaxing after a mad rush of guests and propped the front door open to let in some fresh air. My boss said that he was going to run to CVS really fast and I turned to restock some comics. "Man, don't you love nice days like this?" echoed through my ears from a voice I didn't recognize nor even knew was in the store. Panicking because you should never be in a situation where you don't know somebody is in the store with you I look over my shoulder and find crazy homeless guy sitting on a stool behind the counter where we kept the cash register. Our eyes lock and at first I have no clue where this afternoon will lead me.
     Taking a quick scan of the store I come to find that there is no one else there except for me and my new friend behind the cash register. Very confused and even more angry I ask "Is there anything I can help you find today? Also sir, I need to come out from behind the register please."
     "Not looking for anything really. Just resting for a minute. Being homeless really takes a lot of walking you know." He said with a fairly easy and oddly comforting smile. "I made some bad investments and kind of put myself in this situation."
     Strange, a rational homeless person? He has bought a minute of my time. "Well in any case I do need you to come out from behind there."
     "Sorry but this stool is so comfortable. I see there are a lot of collectible item's in here. I used to be a philatelist."
     "What the hell is going on here!" El Jeffe blurts out as he walks back into the store from his trip to CVS. My boss from here on out will be referred to as El Jeffe.
     "Dude, I don't know. He won't leave."
     Homeless guy interjects "A philatelist is a stamp collector. I had a very rare stamp that some one in Holland stole from me. That was my investment and it ruined my marriage. How can that bitch speak with her pussy like that?" ...that's when I knew I was dealing with a lunatic...as he was pointing his dirty homeless finger at El Jeffe.
     "That's El Jeffe, my boss. Not sure what your meaning dude but you really have to leave the store now."
     El Jeffe emphatically adds in "Get off the stool and out of the store right now before we have to call the police."
     As any great orator would do the Spalding Grey of the homeless world regales us with the rest of his story as if nothing is sinking into his brain..."Where I come from pussy don't talk. It bleeds or it breeds but it doesn't fucking talk. Where was I again, OH yeah stamps. So against my ex-wife's better judgment I sold everything extra we had to buy this rare stamp. You know the one with the upside down plane? It was that one and I had found a buyer for it too. Some wood toothed asshole dutch queer in Holland. Did you know all Dutch people wear wooden teeth because of getting hit for not sucking dick right? Man, I hate wooden teeth. So I mailed the stamp this this wood queer Dutch and waited to hear back. I tried a bunch of times to call him and every time it was a "wrong" number. CHRIST! (at which point he stands up and punches the counter so he kind of was doing what we wanted him to do) I just am trying to save up enough money to fly to Dutch land and kill him. I'm going to fuck him in his mouth like you should that talking pussy over there (once again clearly not understanding how to determine the sex of a homo sapian) and choke him to death with my juices! I don't care about the splinters from his queer wooden teeth!"
     After weighing the potential out comes from pointing out the story about Washington's wood teeth I choose the response of pulling a knife out of my pocket. El Jeffe picks up the phone and begins to dial what I assume to be the police's save us please number. Seeing that we have now heard his story and it was time to leave he stands up, straightens his winter parka and walks out the door muttering about talking pussy's and wooden teeth.
     I never saw him after that. My heart tells me he found his way to Holland and got the revenge he so desperately sought. Looking back I believe he was the ancient mariner to my wedding guest. Instead of bringing hope and love he taught me to hate with such irrationality that other would pull out knives. God speed you crazy asshole, god speed.

     In early 1994 I was still low man on the totem pole. That being said there were only two people on the totem but I was still it's power bottom. Therefore I would get stuck dealing with the less then desirable situations. I get asked a lot if I have a Captain Sweatpants because of the hit sitcom Big Bang Theory with people not knowing about my arch nemesis and focus of my purest hatred...sweatpants. Here is the story of my first encounter with this subhuman, degenerate, maladroit, white trash, cheetoh bearded gomorrahite (yes, how he rolls is worse than what they did in Sodom).
     We were back at the old smaller location with myself and about three other people if memory serves. I had my back to the front window with everybody else faces out into the parking lot. Dirty jokes and favorite stories from the newest comics were being shared and much joy was raining down on us like a winter's first snow. All of a sudden they stopped smiling and their faces turned ashen white. They all sprinted to the back of the store behind a make shift dividing wall that had been constructed to create a storage and processing room but ultimately ended up being where all the drinking and truly fun stupidity occurred. Seeing this I turned around to figure out what caused the lemming run to safety. What I first saw was a rusted mini van shaking back and forth trying to steady itself after a giant fat leviathan of a human oozed himself out of it. He stood well over six feet tall with a beard like a hermit manifesto writing serial killer. His 500 plus pound frame draped in a faded torn apart Incredible Hulk t shirt and ill fitting sweat pants. Over the next minute I stood frozen knowing that he was going to come into the store.
     As he entered the door he bellowed out that he needed the new issue of the Hulk. Seizing the chance to make a sale I motioned for him to follow me and said "Sure thing, right over here sir." This was the last time I would call him sir. After a one sided conversation which I cannot recall as we walked to the register I rang him up. Upon telling him how much he owed the store he proceeded to reach into his sweat pants fishing in and around his crotchal region for what I feared his wallet. Something strange and unexpected happened next. A wad of little kid style bills fell on the floor between his legs. I couldn't figure out how that happened but soon would have this question answered. He mumbles some swear words to himself and waddles two steps backwards, turns around bends over at the waist. As he strains against his massive gut the whole in the crotch of his sweat pants that allowed his money to fall to the floor opens wide and the back of his hairy man batter bag flops out saying hi to me. Picture a nut sack framed by dark grey sweat pants material just there and daring you not to stare at it in horror. After a seeming eternity he stands back up, faces me, wheezes, leans against the counter to catch his breath and hands me a wadded up moist $20 bill. In case you were thinking why was the floor wet it wasn't. After presenting me his nuts he hands me a bill soaked with his junk sweat. Completely demoralized I hand him his change and he leaves. Hysterical laughter explodes from behind the wall and I begin to cry on the inside. This is when my hatred for sweatpants was birthed.

Mission Statement

I plan to use this as a means to vent about the strange, disturbing and annoying crap I deal with on a daily basis. It's semi-self inflicted because I chose my career in customer service focusing on comic readers and gamers but god damn it. Some people just should not breed or have been bred. I truly value their economic contributions, I do. So I hope you laugh, cry, empathize or just delete my from your Facebook feed as you read this. So in saying this I now ask you...DO YOU WANNA LEARN HOW TO FIGHT LIKE A JEDI???????