Home > Filler > Apologies, Dear Reader….

Apologies, Dear Reader….

Please god No more customers

I cannot muster a comic today.  Probably later this week I’ll return with more of the Philadelphia Gothic Bestiary. As some of you have guessed- I manage a porn store during the day. And as more of you may have guessed I fight crime by night. The former of these two endeavors has resulted in a point of frustration that has sapped even my sense of humor about the situation!

At one point last week I had one mentally retarded adult, one  schizophrenic and one guy who I couldn’t peg just what was wrong with him all in my store at once. Individually this trio is simply par for the course in life. People have problems- I’m no Bruce Campbell (the perfect man) myself. However when all three are mumbling to themselves at the same time and hovering around  me demanding I entertain them- it gets a little depressing. The third of our trio is a violent felon- he told me. He’s also baffled by why felons can’t own guns- but that’s ok, he’s “Got ’em ‘n ee way.”

After being told “Y’aint got no new r’leases.” when I damn well know I pout out 20 new films in the AM I simply lost my cool.

“Ok Sean, know what you should do? No shut up, listen to me, know what you should really do? Ok, go out and buy as much Crystal Meth as you can. Sit down and smoke that shit while watching Natural Born Killers and go out and murder someone. Find someone who reminds you of mommy or the warden or something and just put a bullet in them. Can you do that for me?”

Ok, maybe I haven’t lost ALL my sense of humor.

Just yesterday, the 2nd of that former trio, the schizo, was in my store. He was having a pleasant conversation (not with me, or anyone else in the store) about the vampire rogues. Philadelphia is a Vampire City and the Ghost Hunter tv show is actually a government plot by Obama to get us used to supernatural cops.  So he asks to use our rest room. Not one to be discourteous to a customer, and in serious need of silentium, I unlock it and go back to my inventory.

Time flies and two hours later I finish my work and turn on the radio to relax. Suddenly I hear a bang and a crash from the bathroom. Apparently Mr. Vampire City had fallen asleep after shooting up and my radio roused him.

Between this and the sheer fucking rudeness of people and the sense of entitlement that causes them to belittle and assault every sense I have (smell and dignity most often) has driven me to the point where instead of cute gothy comedy you get an angry rant.

– No Spitting

The Management

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