zaftigg

sometimes when I bend down in the freezer to get the kiddie cones I have to get the dregs of what's left in the tubs so I have to bend way down and when I come back up I have a really sore case of t.h.o. (that's "titty hard on," you know, turkey's done) and then my nose starts to run and my jewelry starts to freeze to my face and kids start to cry and old men start to drool and flash gold teeth at me and make obnoxious gestures with their tongues and fingers and crotch rockets until I turn around and tell them to get back to work.

sometimes I look back at the big freezer and all I can think about is taking a disgruntled customer back there before taking their pancreas out to dry for jerky just so they will have issues eating the ice cream that I will force feed them later on. Like the Crotchety fuck who started bitching at me because his granddaughter wanted a large hard ice cream and he didn't look at the price... I don't make the prices, Smitty macDuff, I just serve 'em and ripp you off with a smile and a napkin and occasionally a rockin case of THO

cl0ck rachmaninoff