Sometimes it’s just a cigar, dude.

Customer: “Now what do you call this piece of equipment?”

Me: “That’s a duster.”

Customer: “A what?”

Me: “A duster. Like an overcoat.”

Customer: “I see. And how would I tie this ‘duster’ into my sexual fantasies?”

Me: “Well… you could wear it if you had a cowboy fantasy…”

Customer: “Okay…”

Me: “… or if it was cold outside, and you needed a jacket…”

Customer: “Or if I was a flasher!”

Me: “… or that.”

The Anti-Spartacus

Customer: “You’re very handsome.”

Me: “Well, thank you.”

Customer: “Want to have sex sometime?”

Me: “I’m actually seeing someone.”

Customer: “Ah. No worries, then. You’re still very handsome. How much is this T-shirt?”

And then he browsed for awhile and left, but guys, I don’t think I’ve ever been hit on so respectfully before. I totally want him and Carlisle to hold an in-store workshop on interpersonal communication, and then I want to take them out for ice cream and see if they hit it off. I would pay for the wedding myself.

Lending an Upper Hand

Customer: “FUCKWATER?! What the FUCK is FUCKWATER?! HA!”

Me: “It’s a brand of lube.”

Customer: “Well, does it WORK?! HA HA!”

[Inner Me: No. It’s made out of sandpaper and paste.]

Me: “Yes, it works very well.”

Customer: “So WHY would I buy FUCKWATER when I could just buy CRISCO INSTEAD?! HA HA HA!”

Me: [brightly] “Oh, you’re into fisting!”

Customer: “Wait, what?! NO!”

Me: [pantomiming] “Crisco is used for fisting.”

Customer: “OH GOD NO!”

Me: “So… you’re not into fisting?”

Customer: “I… I didn’t even know Crisco could be used for… for…”

Me: “Fisting.”

Customer: “I apologize.”

Later, I gave a different shopper the condensed history of the Sam Browne belt and then demonstrated how arm restraints work. It’s when I’m educating the masses that I feel like I’m doing the most good.

Poppy Seed McGuffins

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.”

Customer: “WHAT?!”

Me: “PIN BACKS. Those are pin backs.”

Customer: “…”

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.

Hoodoo? I Do. Allegedly.

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.

Rang Up

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?”

Me: “Seriously?”

Straight girl 1: “Yes.”

Me: “No.”

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.