Holy Fuck True Story
OK, no one gives a shit about my life. If I can hardly give one shit, then i’m never going to give two fucking shits, you just need to read this. So I work as a vendor for Home Depot, I don’t actually WORK for home depot. I water fucking flowers, anyways, people always ask us “Do You Work Here?” and we’re always like “No we’re wearing fucking lime green shirts and there’s like 90 bagillion people running around in Orange aprons ask one of them.” THat’s typically all you need to say to get a ho off yo back. But TODAY some guy, like stalks us just like standing at our cart of stuff and like inventory and like awkwardly asks us if we work for the H.D. and we’re like “no we’re fucking vendors” and then he’s like “so you don’t actually work for home depot?” and we’re like “Fuck no.” and instead of walking away like a normal fucking person he decides to carry on the awkward convo even more and like asks us all these questions about our company, asked if we lived in Ohio (what an insult, like I would live in the worst state ever) and shit like that and he finally takes a hint and fucking leaves. The girl I work with was like “holy shit that was the worst attempt at a pick-up i’ve ever heard” and i was like “No way dude, that wasn’t even pick-up-esque…. That dude is like going to kill us or something” and all of a sudden i see something out of the corner of my eye. See, behind us there’s this huge iron gate and an emergency exit, there’s plexiglass over the exit so you can’t like hit the handle and break in and it is kind of just fogged over from natural wear. Anyways I see something in the corner of my eye and IT’S THE MOTHER FUCKER STARING AT US from behind this gate which is only like four feet away from us. So i was like “Uhh… We need to go throw these plants out” so we get our cart of nast-up flowers and we start to head back and i was like “Whoa, I’m bringin’ my pop, because i’m legit scared of this guy like trying to rufie me and kidnap me when i get off work” so we get back to the area where we dump the flowers out and THE MOTHA FUCKA IS BACK THERE… like where customers aren’t allowed and the lady who works back there like ushers him out to help him find something. And so she comes back and we were like “hey, what did that guy want?” and she was like “oh, he was just looking for some rat poison…. why?” and we were like “I donno, something was just off about him. He makes us really uneasy.” she was like “he’s just a fucking customer who needed help” and we just kind of brushed the incident off. So I’m getting ready to leave and I tell the girl I work with to watch me to make sure I make it to my car alive. I make it home A.O.K. and about an hour later the girl I was working with calls and was like “DUDE THAT GUY STOLE LIKE THOUSANDS OF DOLLARS IN MERCHANDISE… BLAH BLAH BLAH HE LIKE RAN OUT THE EMERGENCY EXIT.” So moral of the story: fucking listen to me when I say Mutha Fuckas are sketch and that even big fat nerds who look like they have lived in their mother’s basement for 35 years are capable of running.
