A Wreck in the Halls

And this old black lady comes in, walking very, very, slowly. She staggers zombie-like over to the Gin aisle and comes up to the register with a big-ass bottle of rot gut. As she fumbles in her purse for an eternity seeking exact change, she pauses for a moment, and her hands stop shaking violently. A few moments pass and she resumes shivering and produces the money. She grabs her bag and turns to leave, and out of the corner of my eye I see my manager’s face twist into a visage of sheer and absolute terror.

Oh yeah, she pissed herself. We watched in shame and disgust as she made her way over to the bus stop. Nevermind the probability of getting mugged and/or raped while using public transit, you need to start worrying about whether or not you’re sitting in a pool of some crazy old woman’s gin-piss.

He talks to me sometimes…shows me things…