The End is Nigh

I have no idea why I wrote the below but I am certain it was in regard to one of my jobs and management's meddling and making things even more miserable, while they act like the changes they are to enforce are a wonderful thing when they never are.

Stop trying to paint a holocaust in pretty pastels. Out future is grim and bleak - don't lie about it to our face.

Our Resident Geek's Tough Side

At the Hellmouth, I was known for making a bunch of mixes to play during work. One Saturday afternoon at the start of my shift, I proudly showed the morning crew my latest old school rap mixes. I was working with our Peter Parker that night and wanted to save them for his arrival. Clint said, "Peter Parker doesn't look like he listens to black music." I later relayed this to pSquared and he was mildly offended. "Hey," he said, "That's not true. On the way here I was listening to Run DMC and Bobby Brown." Pause...... "Oh. Parker, were you listening to the Ghostbusters II soundtrack?" Pause...."yes."

Southern Gent

Seven had a customer one evening with a gorgeous Arkansas accent. She regaled Seven with a tale of her traipsing all over town looking for the book that she finally found thanks to his assistance. After stating that, "I got stuck in a mess of a storm and my wipers went and quit on me whilst I was driving down the road!" Seven took her southern wit and raised her with, "Yes, ma'am, that's worse den a possum goin' down a hole backwards." That it is.

Speak It

One evening at the Hellmouth I ran down to the train station on break to pick up Rachel. She had been a barista in Philly but had recently taken a job as a file clerk at a law firm. Frank was sweeping behind the counter and I convinced Rach to erase our menu board and jazz it up a bit. Frank was clearly checking her out - Rachel was super cute with great hair and looked very sassy in her business attire. While up on the ladder chalking up the blackboard Frank walked by and Rachel said, "I'm really bloated and gassy, so if you smell something, it's probably me." Gotta love honesty in a gal.

The Dreaded Hat

Three years into working at the Hellmouth, the cafe staff were forced to start wearing hideous corporate baseball caps. People walked out in the middle of their shifts, frowns were worn daily, and heated arguments were held in the backroom. No one was happy - especially me. Seven stopped by to lend his support and throw some humor around the place. He approached the counter, looked at my pouty face and said, "Miss Star, I feel you should embrace the hat by going with a sombrero." I lasted another half year and moved on. I couldn't take wearing that god-awful thing. Baby had to move on to greener pastures!

Revenge

Tuesday evening, December 7th 2004, Penny stopped into the Hellmouth for a visit on her way home from work. She wanted a warm treat for a cold night, so I whipped her up a 16 ounce Eggnog Latte. That's two shots of espresso and about 14 ounces of steamed eggnog. About forty minutes later a call came through to the café. Kenny picked it up and after about 40 seconds he doubled over laughing. Penny had said, "Tell Star to get rid of that nog - it's poison." Kenny asked, "Why, is it bad?" to which she replied, and I quote, "Let's put it this way, if Hitler came back as my toilet it would be truly unfair."
The next evening I emailed Penny to tell her how hilarious that line was and here is her reply:
I literally had to SPEED to my house and RUN into the bathroom. And that was only the first wave. It would be a true disservice if I didn't tell you to get rid of that stuff.
Yes, Hitler. i had to come up with some kind of measure of the gravity of the situation. Not just, 'Oh, it made my stomach hurt' or 'I was miscarrying Satan's baby'.
On the bright side I think I lost 15 lbs.
But today there is no more signs of poo-hell-itis. And if that drink turned me off eggnog forever, The Hellmouth will owe me retribution. I will have my revenge!!! KAHN!!!!!

Mr. Ralston

While working in The Hellmouth one of our regulars, and later a café employee, was a hugely flamboyant and utterly hilarious fella named Buddy. He was as gay as a parrot flying from a tree in Liberace's garden and was loved by everyone who met him. Once a few of us were chatting about something funny that Buddy had done the other day and we must have mentioned his boyfriend or something when Jared said seriously, "Buddy's gay? Huh...wow. I had no idea." The next day when Buddy came in to work I said, "Oh my God, Buddy, Jared didn't know you were gay!" I can still see Buddy's expression at this. He paused, clearly in shock, mouth literally agape and quietly stammered, "Am I doing something wrong? How could he not know?" Honestly, I have no idea. Buddy was a hairstylist who wore eyeliner, glitter, and occasionally a skin tight girl's Wonder Woman t-shirt. I mean Jesus knew Buddy was gay, and I'm fairly certain that they've not met.

Gaye

A few years back I ran into my friend Gaye, an older lady I befriended at The Hellmouth, when I was at work in The Aisles. She saw me chatting with Joe Dairy and later pulled me aside. "Is he a potential..." she asked with a wink and a nudge. "No, no, no, " I protested, "I'm old enough to be his mother, Gaye!" She deadpanned, "He may be young, but hey, as long as they know where to put it." Oh, my!

Laine's Had Enough

Store meetings at The Hellmouth usually consist of boring shit that either no one hears or we already knew to begin with. At one of these meetings, the GM was saying that with each sale made the cashier needs to mention whatever book is being pushed for that month as well as recommending something similar to their purchase. (Sidebar - Blaine is famous for suggesting Charles Dickens' David Copperfield for everything. Example: "Ma'am, would you like a copy of David Copperfield with your Lindor Truffle?") Anyway...at the meeting the GM went on and on about what suggestions should be made and so on and so forth until Laine had heard enough and blurted out, "What next? Do we ask if they want a blow job with their Oprah book selection?" Daaaammmmmn! Laine is a gal who does not hold back.

Fr. Michael Gets Mildly Nasty

Michael and I had met nearly twelve years ago, but didn't become close until three years later. One thing Michael loves to do is reminisce; Thursday night we were looking through old photographs and came upon a picture of a gal we once worked with. She was nice enough but she wasn't overly friendly or easy to chat with, plus she didn't smoke, so that bonding session never occurred. Anyway, Michael saw her picture and said, "Whew. Remember her? She was a healthy girl..."

Jared's Gettin' Pissed

A handful of July 4ths ago, Jared and I were stuck working, rather than attending a family cookout. We had actually been looking forward to it because we figured it'd be dead and we could relax and chill together. That was so not the case. The freakin' café was jam packed and we never saw a moment's peace. In our anger and disappointment, Jared turned to me and said, "Look at these unpatriotic commie bastards. These fuckers oughta be out at a barbecue with their families celebrating their freedom and independence, but no, they come here in droves like, like..." "Like fucking lemmings," I added. Jared pointed right at me and said, "Yer goddamn right. Like fucking lemmings."

Seven Strikes Again

One evening outside the Hellmouth, a handful of us were smoking and chatting and I asked everyone what they would have been named had they been the opposite sex. (I would have been called Michael Thomas). Seven said he didn't know but spoke of the debate between his parents before settling on Seven. "Yeah, my father wanted to name me Fritz. Fritz Bauer. Sounds like an SS officer. My mother liked Blake. Blake Bauer. I would have been destined for a career in the adult film industry with that name. Sadly though, I am Korean from the waist down." Be that as it may, it needs to be stated that Seven never had any difficulty woo-ing the ladies.

The Ice Cube of The Hellmouth

Once while at the counter daydreaming, Blaine quickly walked up, stood directly in front of me and said, "I just checked myself...and I've wrecked myself." He then dashed off leaving me in stitches on the café floor mats. God damn that fella is a hoot.

The Return of Seven

One afternoon at the Hellmouth I was chillin' at the info desk and chatting with Seven. A very young and aesthetically pleasing girl strolled past and Seven followed her every step with longing eyes. He leaned towards me, still watching her and remarked, "I'd like to make-a some romance in her." Hilarity.

Rusty

In my days at the Hellmouth, I worked with a certain dredlocked hunk named Russ. During our time together Rusty came out. I personally believe that I have excellent gaydar (well, for gay men. sadly i am clueless regarding the ladies.) but I so didn't see that conversation coming. He actually said that he was waiting for a guy to come in to the café that a friend of his was setting him up with. I was insanely confused. Why would meeting a friend of a friend be considered a set up? That just didn't sound right. It got to a point where I literally said, "Dude, are you telling me that you're gay???" He said yeah and I was speechless. Come the end of the night I still was not convinced. I mean this guy was so straight. Like an arrow. Like a motherfuckin' board. So I finally just said, "Rusty, man, I know we only met like a coupla weeks ago, but, are you sure you're gay? I mean, I just don't see it. I could walk in on you fuckin' some guy on this table and be all, 'Rusty, quit playin'!' because I just can't get my head around it." That's when he dropped the bomb and said plainly, "Rusty likes cock." Well alrighty then.

Christian Lisa

At the Hellmouth I worked with a gal who was a devout born again named Lisa. There being more than one Lisa at said Hellmouth, she then became known as Christian Lisa. Please keep in mind that I said she was born again, so she at one point led a totally different lifestyle. Anyway, Dave was in the break room with her one evening when Christian Lisa decided to vent a little too much. Dave was a hell of a great guy and just gorgeous. He looked a lot like Donal Logue and he was kind, well-mannered, and completely hilarious. He was also, at that point anyway, in a very committed relationship with a gal he deeply loved (although I often wondered why, or how). This all being said, Christian Lisa was feeling something quite common, but rarely discussed in the workplace, and that is sexual frustration. She said to Dave, and I quote, "I need to get fucked. I need to get fucked nasty." This was the point where Dave left the back room, came over to me in the café and damn near ordered me to take Christian Lisa outside for a cigarette break and not return until she was back to her old self. Dave just couldn't deal with Lisa's crazy bluntness. So I was the one who had to hear about her ex-bf who had a cock like Dillinger and a face like Harrison Ford in American Graffiti. The good Lord wanted her to see the light and follow His path, but she claimed it was more than she could handle on that given day. The question I still ponder is why would you leave a man with a face like Harrison Ford and a cock like Dillinger who could fuck you six ways to Sunday? Put it up there with the Tootsie Pop conundrum, I guess.

Don't Hold Back...

Years ago during my tour at the Hellmouth, I was in the café chatting with Fink, when our resident Brit, Jane, came over the loudspeaker with, "Back Up to the registers, please. May I have Back Up to the registers. Thank you." Fink, aka Back Up, rolled his eyes and said, "Just like the British to call in for back up." This of course was said purely in jest, since Jane was one of the sweetest gals at the Hellmouth. I laughed like the dickens, though.

Cerpts & Bishop

Years ago at the Hellmouth, if I recall the story correctly, Cerpts & Bishop were in the break room chatting. They had only been working together for a brief time at this point and had discovered in one another a common thread. Food. They apparently got into a deep discussion of what each one's finest meal was, and at one point Cerpts said, "You should come over to my place one day and I'll make dinner and you can bring dessert." Bishop replied with mock surprise, "You'd let a black man in your house?" "Well, somebody has to serve us," Cerpts deadpanned thus making Bishop howl out loud. Ya gotta love that Cerpts.

Mr. Schnell

Back at the Hellmouth, there was a fabulous old coot who had a colourful way of describing the customers. Specifically it was the ones that wanted to purchase only the newest fad book, like the Oprah book club books or The DaVinci Code. As if heaven forbid they should veer out on their own and choose a selection that spoke to them. These people, as Schnell pointed out to me, were fucking lemmings who were "as useless as fucking clown shoes." And what could be more useless than clown shoes?
It should be noted that Schnell could never, ever pass up a sale of any kind. A week after Halloween one year he was in Rite Aid and cleaned them out of monster slammer stuffed animal heads. They went down to 90% off and it's how I acquired my Frankenstein and Wolfman slammers. Thanks again, Schnell!

Cuteness From Blaine

Back when I worked the café at the Hellmouth, I would often times sneak over to the cage in the music department. Once while back there hanging out with Blaine the Music God, I noticed a giant rubbermaid trashcan with a lid and a vacuum hose attached. I inquired and he said it was used to get the packing peanuts out of incoming orders and save them for future shipments. Being a child of five years old, I became ecstatic and clasping my hands together in glee asked, "Next time will you page me so I can come and use the peanut vacuum? Pretty please??" Blaine, being the most hilarious and adorable man to ever exist responded, "Sure. You can suck my nuts anytime." Only he could deliver a line so crass, but make it sound terribly endearing.