The Graveyard Shift Diaries #9

WTF I Just Have To LMAO: Cont…
I, of all people know about hard times, but almost every night I have a pathetic amount of change thrown into the tray. “Thirty two cents on pump five,” poor son-of-a-bitch says. (Who if they live around here most likely spent all their money on black tar heroin, and now I’M FORCED TO FEEL BAD). That’s not going to last out of the parking lot for Christ’s sake. I can’t bare this, so I dig for change in my purse to at least get them to a dollar. Mumbling curses at the same time.
Something I cannot shut my big mouth about, is when a round pregnant belly comes to my window, and asks for a pack of cigarettes. Yes, the cigarettes are for them. My statement to these brain dead yokels is, “You do know how bad that is for your baby, right?” “Oh no, only during the beginning of the pregnancy,” idiot who shouldn’t be reproducing anyway says. Whatever. What else did I expect from a mom-to-be out at 2a.m. wearing a wife beater and daisy duke shorts.

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