Crispy Gamer

Corpse Run 330: Hanging out

 

Lil’ bit of bat humor today.

Concerning the strip in a more serious matter, I always feel really awkward when I’m with a group of bilingual people and they suddenly break out into another language.  There’s no smooth way to reenter the conversation, and should things turn back to English, I have no idea where the conversation has gone.

Also, why did they need to switch languages?

They must have been talking about me… oh my god… did I forget deodorant today?  

Sniff.

Nope, I’m all de-odorized… 

Oh my god did everyone just see me smelling my armpits?  Everyone must have seen me smelling my armpits…

Did I lock my door before leaving earlier?

…and so on and so forth.  Maybe I’m just paranoid.

Maybe I’m not paranoid enough.

Speaking of which, every time I go to a grocery store I’m afraid of being accused of something, whether it be shoplifting or whatever.  I don’t feel that way because I’m actually engaging in shady activity; it’s just a part of my basic, everyday psychosis.

This past Monday, however, I was totally justified in my concern.  Other than purchasing salt-lick at the Tractor Supply, I had to pick up lighter fluid at the supermarket.

Twelve bottles of lighter fluid.

There’s no easy way not to look like a crazy person while wheeling a cart filled with nothing but flammable liquid.

I decided to get some candy; that would make me appear sane.

So here I am, rolling my cart into the checkout and placing my items on the conveyor belt.  ”Hi,” I said to the cashier.

“…hey,” he said back.  Naturally, you can’t see the text of speech, but I felt like his “hey” was preceded by an ellipsis.

I pulled out a tax exempt form and waved my hand over the lighter fluid, “All of this is tax exempt, here’s the form, and that,” I pointed to the candy, a collection of Chewy Spree, Sour Patch Kids, and Gummy Lifesavers, “that’s for me.”

Again, I don’t know if my “that’s for me” was italicized, but it sure felt that way.  I was now officially a crazy person.

Or I thought I was, anyway.  The dude didn’t skip a beat, rang me up two separate purchases, and even ran outside to grab me when I left the tax exempt form on the counter.

 

That guy was awesome, thanks, that guy!