The Graveyard Shift Diaries #12

WTF I Just Have To LMAO: Cont…

A eighteen year old guy stops by at least once a week to buy condoms. The part that tickles me, is no matter if other people are around or not (mostly not) he get’s really close to the window and whispers, “Can I get a pack of Trojans?” I always hear what he says, and at first I carry out the transaction normally. About the twenty-fifth time I cannot resist messing with him; risking my life by doing so. He could be touched in the head, but I take my chances. So while pushing the speaker button that throws my voice out to the whole station (yet will not let me hear anyone directly in front of me clearly) I say, “I’m sorry, what?” No dirty look, or look that says I’m going to put a bullet in your head, or shank you when you leave to go home, so I continue. “Did you say condoms?” He smiles at me. Either he is a willing participant in my silliness, or he is a mental fruitcake. I can’t stop. Shaking them in the air I say, “So these right here, this box of Trojan condoms!”
“Yes, thank you.” He says, with a smile. Nothing else. He does return on schedule the next week, but the whisper has gone. My job is done.
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