Yet today, I sit before my computer typing away as I have yet another exciting tale to give to all of you. I would also like to give you all an STI, but I can't do that over the Internet yet. And so without further ado: let me give you the tale of Justin Hawthorne, yesterday.
It was 7 in the morning when I arose. I was in a deep state of "Everybody can die" as I walked downstairs. I showered, put on a spiffy outfit, and headed into my vehicle. I arrived at Tilly's at 8:47 a.m. about 13 minutes before my shift began.
Normally, I work between 3-7 in the thick of the Jewish afternoon when a swarm of Orthodox Jews walk in and ask me about sales. However, today was no normal day. Today, we had a 'band' coming in to do a signing. As I walked into the store, I passed by an already forming line full of fat girls with bad acne and god-awful teeth. Seriously, I don't think one of those bitches has ever used a motherfucking toothbrush.
I walked in and saw tables being set up, a tent being posted, and my nipples dripping in excruciating agony. I spent the morning talking to my fellow associates, one of them we will refer to as Jesus.
He is named Jesus in this blog post, because like Jesus, he stands at over 6 feet tall, has long hair, a long beard, and was born December 25th. I am almost positive that he IS the second coming of Christ. Jesus and I got to talking about this 'band' and how awful they are. We thought of how brilliantly awesome it would be for them to die in a fiery ball of death and just never show up.
Jesus hypothesized the act of going out to the line and saying, "Yeah, so, they're not going to be here.. they're dead. You can all go home now." Sadly, this theory was never unfolded nor tested, because they lived.
After arriving 45 minutes late, these two sluts came walking in. I realized moments before that like the girls outside- awkward, large, and smelly- my sister might too like these talentless ass clowns.
I texted her, inquiring if she likes them. She informed me that she was, indeed, a great fan of this group of faggots. Immediately I saw my opportune to piss her off. I took a selfie, actually 2, and sent them to her immediately.
Because these pussies are little bitches, I am sure if I put up their image I'll be sued and so I have kept them in my own possession to throw darts in.
The doors opened like floodgates to annoying people. We were open for business but I think we made a total of 5 sales because everybody there was just there to see the 'band' and so we made shit money.
It was actually pretty great because I had nothing to do except dance- which is what I do everyday in Tilly's. It's come to the point where I just get paid to dance and fold.
Basically, my life is awesome.
As I danced in the store, the line outside happened to catch me and were laughing and video taping me. At one point, it seemed like I was a bigger event then the two ass clowns inside the store, and that was pretty awesome. One gay Indian boy wanted my number and also wanted to dance with me.
If I wasn't gay both of those things would have happened.
But instead he only got my number.
I don't suck that many dicks.
I actually danced so much that I sweat pretty hardcore, but only out of one armpit as I have a condition called 'hypohydrosis.' Basically, I sweat more out of one armpit than the other and its wonderful.
The day proceeded until the line was over and the signing was also by just 1 O'clock- only an hour and 15 minutes after they arrived. When the storm was over, I asked the guys to sign a little something for my sister. The one with sunglasses on, David, could not spell Kathleen and so I had to spell it to him.
Musical. Genius.
After I had this signed, I took a good look at the two guys. The one with the blond Mohawk actually wasn't too bad. I mean, sure, he had a blond Mohawk, but he had on a button down shirt and a tie and I guess was trying to look nice for his fans. He was a nice guy and shook my hand and gave off this impression that he was the one with any musical ability. I actually liked him and he is not a flaming faggot.The other faggot was wearing sunglasses inside with a backwards hat and had on the tightest skinny jeans I have ever seen- which by the way, were bedazzled. Yes. Bedazzled skinny jeans.
Let that sink in.
Bedazzled.
Skinny.
Jeans.
Fuck that guy.
They left at the same time I did- my shift was over. But the story does not end here. As I headed to my car, I saw the crew (the faggot and his faggot friends) standing outside. I had to pass by them and said 'howdy' in a friendly way. But as I was in my car, about to drive to my friend's house, I realized I had to do something.
It was for Jesus. He hated them as much as I did and he said nothing to them. I knew I had to correct this- one of us HAD to say something to these faggot losers. And so- as I drove past them I rolled my windows down and shouted the only thing I could think of-
"BY THE WAY YOU FUCKING SUCK!"
I then sped away, slamming on the gas, and almost ran over a lady whom did not take the situation quite kindly. After awkwardly having to wait at a stop sign and let cars pass, I knew my day was done and my mission fulfilled.
It was a fun day, a good day, and an adventure at the work place. I only hope I'm not fired.
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