[Carlisle has come by to keep me company on a slow evening, and since it’s near freezing outside, he’s dressed head-to-toe in leather. Without warning, a mildly hysterical customer bursts into the store.]
Customer: [pointing at Carlisle] “OH, MY GOD. I thought you were a mannequin, but then you moved and scared the shit out of me!”
[A friend of said customer suddenly bursts in right behind him, brandishing a black, plastic shopping bag.]
Customers Friend: “HOLD YOUR OWN FUCKING BAG, CHAD.”
Customer/Chad: “NO. YOU FUCKING HOLD IT.”
Customers Friend: “FUCK YOU.”
I honestly thought they were going to come to blows, but instead they just glared at each other and stormed back into the bar. So that was kind of a let-down, although it did inspire Carlisle to create a self-portrait via a photo editing app and the styrofoam head we use to display garrison caps:
As a side note, I watched Hereditary last night, and halfway through the movie, a precariously-balanced bottle of melatonin slid off my coffee table, and I was like, “Huh. It’s ironic that melatonin is the reason I’ll never sleep again.” But I only bring this up as comparison, because the thought of a demon ghost child somehow escaping my television in order to knock shit around my living room creeped me out nowhere nearly as badly as the above picture does. I may print it out and tape it to the front side of the counter (where I won’t actually have to see it) and add, “Don’t forget, kids: Carlisle is watching,” as a shoplifting deterrent. It’ll be like the Elf on the Shelf, except everyone will be too unnerved to make memes out of it.
Well, I mean, Robert will make memes out of it. But everyone else will just avert their eyes and follow the damn rules.
PS: I told Ben about the melatonin poltergeist, and he was like, “This is the kind of thing that would only happen to you,” which makes me feel vaguely insulted but also totally validated. And like I might need and old priest and a young priest.