Once, back when I was a 14 year old little metalhead & semi-hooligan, my bitchin' friends and I went clomping into a freshly-mopped 7-11, leaving muddy hightop footprints all the way over to the Spy Hunter and Galaga machines over in the corner.
The slightly wild-eyed, white-haired old guy behind the counter glared at us for a moment, then angrily stomped around to stand before us, and proceeded to shake his mop at us threateningly while yelling, "Ding, dang, look at my floor....... ding, dang, GET OUTTA MY STORE!!"
We ran for our Aquanet-ed lives, Metallica Ride The Lightning T-shirts flapping in our wake.
And I will never forget that shit.
5 comments:
Bwahahaha!
I use to live down the road from a 24 hour "Stop N Go". Since there was never anything to do in my little town, I would hang out there at all hours of the night checking out the creepy people that would come in at 3:am to buy FIVE lighters! (Why five?)
I always hope to be there while it was getting robbed, but sadly, that dream never came true...
Love to read your blogs.
I'm sure I've heard that "Ding-dang" thing somewhere before, but I can't put my finger on it. Anyway, crazy old people rule!
Ding-dang. Wow. :) I don't have a crazy-old-7-11-employee story, but there IS the tale of "Mr. Markee". Mr. Markee was an ancient old fart who'd hang out on the porch of my grandfather's nursing home, back in the day when I had a grandfather. It was a Sunday and we'd come from church to see Grandpa and bring him some eats, and after our visit my sister and I ended up on the porch, sitting in rockers they had lined against the wall. Mr. Markee was tall, thin and lanky, and he walked back and forth before us, like a sentry guarding The Tomb of the Unknown Soldier. As he walked, he did a strange thing...he kept both hands on his head, rubbing his remaining fuzzy, white flyaway hair, and as he passed he'd bend at the waist, all the while still walking and rubbing. We watched him for the longest time trying to figure him out, thinking, "what a sweet old coot. Look at him! What's he doing?" After a time, a Nurse Ratchet type came out of the home onto the porch, planted her hands on her hips and barked at the old man, "Shame on you, stop looking up the girl's skirts, Markee!" And there you have it. The long nard was trying to have a look at some nubile beaver amidst the Sunday Best. He broke out in a huge grin when he was revealed, and we felt suddenly dirty. Funny old, dirty old fart...) ~Randi
Boosh! That old man was probably into all kinds of crazy stuff!
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