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So, lemme tell ya, I tried figurin’ this out once—total disaster! Walkin’ down some sketchy street, thinkin’ I’m slick, but I’m sweatin’ like a pig. Neurotic rant comin’—what if I get caught? What if she’s a cop? What if she’s got a freakin’ mustache?! I’m paranoid, okay! Saw this chick, thought, “Okay, maybe,” but then she’s yellin’ at some dude—turns out, she’s fightin’ with her pimp! Like, great, now I’m in a soap opera! “Pretty, pretty good,” my ass—this is a nightmare!

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After a few minutes, the lights flicker back on. Thank you, sweet electricity! But now, the register’s acting up. It’s like it’s possessed or something. I’m pressing buttons, and it’s just beeping at me. I’m sweating bullets. I can feel the eyes of the customers burning into my back. “Just let me scan your stuff!” I’m thinking.

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