Cock Block of the Walk

[Two customers enter the store with mischievous glints in their eyes.]

Customer 1: “WE’RE GONNA HAVE SEX IN HERE.”

Me: “Are you, now?”

Customer 1: “Nothing says we can’t have sex in here!”

Me: “Just me.”

Customer 1: “But the sign outside doesn’t mention the Forge…”

[Ed. Note: There’s a laminated sign by the front door of Ripcord that says, “No sex in the bar area, bathrooms, or on the patio. If caught, you will be asked to leave, period.”]

Customer 1: “… SO WE’RE ALLOWED TO HAVE SEX IN HERE.”

Me: [leaning over the counter and beaming like a bear trap] “You are welcome to try.”

Customer 1: “…”

Customer 2: [meekly] “I promise we’re not going to have sex in here.”

Time to make more signs for the register, I guess. I hope management is sympathetic when we run out of Post-its.

You’re Going to Say I Should’ve Said What Everyone Else Said I Should’ve Said

Straight Girl: [pointing at a display of socks] “Socks.”

Me: “Pardon?”

Straight Girl: “Socks.”

Me: “… Yes. Those are socks.”

Straight Girl: “How much are they?”

Me: “$6.99.”

Straight Girl: [grinning seductively] “And how much are they if I show you my boobs?”

Me: “$6.99.”

Straight Girl: “…”

And then I rolled my eyes and went to help other customers.

I told this story several times throughout the night, and while amused, everyone from the doorman to the bartender to the manager critiqued my response in exactly the same way.

Me: “… and then she was like, ‘And how much are they if I show you my boobs?’ And I was all, ‘$6.99.'”

Them: “You know what would’ve been funnier? If you told her $15.00.”

Me: “Damn it all to hell.”

The new rule at Ripcord is that if a heterosexual wanders into the Forge and gets mouthy, I am to send an emergency text to everybody on duty, so that they can come running and throw efficient shade for me. I sincerely appreciate the support, but it also kind of feels like I’m getting picked last for gay dodgeball.

It’s either in Leviticus or the Apocrypha. I forget which.

Customer: “How much are these jockstraps?”

Me: “The Nasty Pig jocks? Those are $59.”

Customer: “Hmm. I think my package is just about ready for one of those.”

[He starts vigorously thrusting his pelvis.]

Customer: “Because [thrust] I’ve [thrust] been [thrust] lifting [thrust] weights!’

Me: [impassive smile]

Customer: “…”

And then he busied himself out of the store. Had I the chance to do it again, I definitely would’ve started doing the Time Warp and shouting, “GROUP SEX GROUP SEX GROUP SEX” in time to his thrusts, but that would’ve probably gotten real awkward real quickly if he wasn’t familiar with the song and/or movie.

Then again, he’s the one walking into retail establishments and simulating sex in front of the staff. And like it says in the Bible, let he who is not enthusiastically fucking air cast the first stone. Or he who just bought the damn jock already. Something like that. I’ll have to look it up again.

Toy Story 5: The Revenge

Customer: “Do you sell single-use packets of lube?”

Me: “We don’t, but I do have free samples, if you’d like some.”

Customer: “I only need one.”

Me: “Okay. Well, here you go.” [I hand him a packet.]

Customer: “Thanks! It hurts.”

Me: “It… hurts?”

Customer: “Yeah. I bought a toy at this other shop…”

Me: “Oh.”

[beat]

Me: “Oh.”

Customer: “Yeah. They didn’t have any lube, but I went ahead and… listen, could I use your dressing room?”

Me: “With my blessing.”

He came out a couple of minutes later all, “Whew. Much better!” And then he smiled at me and left.

I tried to smile back, but, y’know. It hurts.

Bighting My Tongue

Straight Girl: [placing a bundle of bondage rope on the counter with a giggle] “I’d like to buy this, please.”

Me: “Okay. That’ll be $21.64.”

Straight Girl: “My boyfriend’s gonna be like, ‘What the heck?’ Ha!”

Me: “Ha. Yeah.”

Straight Girl: [eyes suddenly burning like coals] “AND I’M GONNA BE LIKE, ‘WHAT TIME IS IT NOW, BITCH?!'”

Me: “…”

Straight Girl: “Byeee!”

Long story short, I just found the spokesmodel for my upcoming #NotAllStraightGirls campaign. The Internet ain’t even ready for her.

‘Cause Everything Is Rent

Customer 1: “Huh. That was odd.”

Customer 2: “What happened?”

Customer 1: “This guy I met at JR’s last night just called and asked if I could loan him $20.”

Customer 2: “Seriously?”

Customer 1: “Yeah. He said he was on his way back to Dallas, but he accidentally left his wallet here. So he wants to borrow $20 for gas to get home.”

Customer 2: “That’s kind of weird.”

Customer 1: [to me] “What do you think?”

Me: “I mean, I don’t get paid to judge, but it does sound suspicious.”

Customer 1: “I agree. You’re very good-looking, by the way.”

Me: “Well, thank you.”

Customer 1: “What’s your name?”

Me: “Thomas.”

Customer 1: “May I hug you, Thomas?”

Me: “… Okay, sure.”

[He comes behind the counter and puts his arm around my shoulder.]

Customer 1: “You’re so cute. I like you.”

Me: [stage-whispering to Customer 2] He’s gonna loan me $20! I can feel it!

Customer 1: [letting go with a smile] “Touché.”

In conclusion, Customer 1 was polite and friendly, and I sincerely appreciate how he asked before touching. 10/10, would definitely interact with him again.

I was kind of banking on that twenty, though.

Is it fashion sense? Maybe he just wants fashion sense.

Bar Patron: “Do you know if John is coming in tonight?”

Me: “I haven’t seen him, but he might be around here somewhere.”

Bar Patron: “I just love him.”

Me: “He really is a great guy.”

Bar Patron: “He’s so big and strong!”

Me: “Both true.”

Bar Patron: “And he’s so sweet. He gives the best hugs.”

Me: “He is, and he does.”

Bar Patron: “He makes me wish I was gay.”

Me: “Yeah, he… wait, what?”

Bar Patron: “I mean, not the sex part. I don’t get gay sex at all. But the rest of it…”

Me: “…”

Bar Patron: “Anyway, if you do see him, tell him I said hi!”

I am so confused right now, you guys.

We all are, apparently.

The Numb-ass 2000

Customer 1: “I want a paddle. Do they have paddles here?”

Customer 2: [noticing a textured silicone paddle on the back counter] “Here’s one.”

Customer 1: “Huh.” [to me] “Is this a good paddle?”

Me: “It’s a very good paddle.”

Customer 1: “Well, what’s so special about it? Is it magic?”

Me: “I certainly think so.”

Customer 1: [smirking] “Oh, yeah? What’s its magical power?”

Me: “It’ll turn you into my bitch.”

Customer 1: “…”

Customer 2: “I’ll take it.

As previously mentioned, I am rarely witty when I need to be, so here’s to mouthing off with proper timing for a change. The fact that I got a sale out of it is just gravy.

My Own Hot Take on Open Container Laws

Straight Girl: “I’d like some amyl nitrate, please.”

Me: “Ah. Well, it would be illegal for us to sell amyl nitrate for recreational purposes, but we do carry a fine selection of solvents and polish removers.”

Straight Girl: [scrutinizing the solvents display] “Are these just what you have today?”

[Inner Me: This isn’t a farmers market, Rebessica.]

Me: “These are… what we have in stock.”

[She makes a selection and leaves, at which point a lesbian couple enters the store.]

Lesbian 1: [pointing to the solvents] “What are these? What did she just buy?”

Me: “These are solvents and polish removers.”

Lesbian 1: “So what are they for?”

Me: “Definitely not recreational purposes. But if one were to use them recreationally, one would inhale them, which would cause a brief sense of euphoria and muscle relaxation.”

Lesbian 1: “Okay… but why?”

Me: “Because afterwards, you’d be able to fit almost anything in your butt.”

Lesbian 1: “Ooh! Which ones should we try?” [to her partner] “Which ones do we want?”

Lesbian 2: “Wait… how do you use them again?”

Lesbian 1: “You drink them.”

Me: “Please don’t drink them. If you were going to use them recreationally — which, again, would be illegal — you would inhale them.”

Lesbian 2: “I don’t know. I’m nervous about this.”

Random Gay Dude: [bounding across the store, bottle of solvents in hand] “Here! Try mine!”

Me: “DO NOT OPEN THAT BOTTLE IN HERE.”

Everyone: “…”

Me: “We’re not opening any solvents in the store. If you’ve never used them before, I recommend Rush, which will be fairly mild compared to the other brands.”

[They briefly confer, then agree to buy the Rush. As they exit, a terribly pretty twink enters the store, holding a bottle of Double Scorpio Emerald with his thumb over the top.]

Twink: “Can you give me another one of these?”

Me: “Can I… give you one?”

Twink: “Uh-huh. I lost the cap to this one.”

Me: “I can’t give you another, but I can sell you one.”

Twink: [rolling his eyes] “That’s what I meant.”

Me: “Okay. That’ll be $21.64.”

[He sets the bottle on the counter and reaches for his wallet. The cap is indeed missing, and the store quickly fills with the refreshing aroma of eucalyptus.]

Me: “TAKE THAT OUTSIDE.”

Twink: “Huh?”

Me: [with a hand over my nose and mouth] “Cover it back up, take it outside to the patio, and throw it away.”

Twink: “Ugh. Fine.”

[He steps into the bar and tosses the bottle in the trashcan next to the door.]

Twink: “Can I have another one now?”

There’s a common myth that koalas are constantly intoxicated from eating fermented eucalyptus leaves. While it’s patently untrue, it was pretty much the only thing I could think about as I wiped down the counter and attempted to breathe through my eyes.

I’m going to make a new sign that says, “No solvents available until I recover from selling them.” And maybe another that says, “If you’ll look to your left, you’ll notice we also sell leather.” Just, y’know, in case anyone’s actually interested in it.

I’m changing my scene name from Thumper to either Crypt-Keeper or Das Vampyr.

[Two preppies start to enter the store, but end up just standing in the doorway, holding each other and peering around with trepidation in their eyes.]

Preppy 1: “Are those… are those onesies?”

Preppy 2: “I think so.”

Preppy 1: “Are onesies fetish?”

Preppy 2: “I… I don’t know.”

Preppy 1: “…”

Preppy 2: “I just don’t know.”

[They freak out and scurry back into the bar. Then, later…]

Customer: “May I try on a cock ring?”

Me: “Go for it.”

Customer: “Oh, God… people actually try them on?!”

[He leaps away from the display, flails helplessly for a moment, then runs out of the store.]

So I can’t tell if their fear is actually making me more youthful, or if it’s just giving me a bump of energy like a B12 shot, but either way, I look forward to feasting on the dread of more tourists in the future. It’s a lot more satisfying than dealing with the ones who just come in to giggle.