Customer: “What’s this?” [holds up pocket flag]
Me: “That’s a pocket flag. It serves the same purpose as a colored hanky.”
Customer: “Oh, okay. What’s this?” [holds up pin strap]
Me: “That’s a pin strap. Some people don’t like poking holes in their bar vests, so they put their run pins on leather straps instead and clip them to their belt loops.”
Customer: “Huh. And what’s this?” [holds up baggie of PVC pin backs]
Me: “That’s black tar heroin.”
Me: “PIN BACKS. Those are pin backs.”
So before the rumors get too out of hand, let me just say that yes, I am in fact selling black tar heroin for the low, low price of $2.99 per serving. (Is “serving” the word I’m looking for?) Anyway, it’s pretty much the deal of the century. Tell every model you know.
Customer: “Whoa, what happened in here?”
Owner: “There was a power surge in the bar, and our overhead lights exploded.”
Customer: “Was Thomas holding a séance?”
Geez, people. You make one little pact with the Prince of Darkness to ensure the financial security of an independent business (YOU’RE WELCOME, by the way), and suddenly everyone’s all judgy. Stop oppressing me with your secular humanism, infidels.
Straight girl 1: “What is that?”
Straight girl 2: “Is it a bracelet?”
Straight girl 3: “I can’t get my hand through it…”
Me: “That’s a cock ring.”
Straight girl 2: “But… but it’s so big.”
Me: Well, some guys need them to be that big.”
Straight girl 1: “Will you put it on and show us how it works?”
Straight girl 1: “Yes.”
Straight girl 1: [defiant smirk]
Me: [GAY GLARE]
Straight girl 1: “…”
And then they scurried out of the store like terrified little bunnies. Go figger.
Customer: “Do you have, like, chokers? I really want a choker.”
Me: “A… choker?”
Customer: “Yes. Oooh, a red one.”
Me: “Right this way!”
And that’s the story of how I sent a drunk twink out into the world flagged as a fisting slave bottom. You’re welcome.
Somebody in the bar just yelled, “I am NOT an alcoholic! Alcoholics go to meetings!” And I’m over here like, no worries, hon. I’ll save you a seat.