…………“$1.64,” I said. I spoke robotically. My eyes were glazed over. I had been selling junk food and lottery tickets to the peasants for nine straight hours and couldn’t wait to get out of there and drink a bottle of wine.

…………“Oh no, you don’t,” the woman said. Her tone was accusatory and a touch triumphant. “It said 99 cents on the cooler.” Her blunt face wore a sly, know­ing smile. Apparently, I was intentionally trying to screw her out of 65 cents and she busted me: Not so fast, Evil Convenience Store Guy.

…………I sighed. “That’s for the Aquapure.” I indic­ated the plastic bottle of water that sat on the counter between us. “This is Dasani.”

…………The woman looked at me flatly. She snatched the water away and waddled back to the cooler in a huff, clearly angry and very fat. Maybe she was pissed about it being her mistake and not mine. Maybe it was because Dasani was her favorite brand of water and now here it was beyond her financial reach.

…………Even after two years, it still amazes me how people come in and actually buy water. I mean, they actually stop whatever it is they’re doing, get in their car and drive, sometimes blocks and blocks, to the convenience store where I work. They park, come in­side, and search through the coolers until they find the water. Then, using their hands, they take some up to the counter and actually give me money for it.

…………They do this without thinking.

…………Sometimes, though, they rise up out of the fog and realize what they’re doing. When this happens, they usually get pissed. That’s what was going on with this woman. $1.64 is too much for her? She’s ac­tually looking for a deal on water. What, is she “spe­cial” or something? Did momma drop her on her head when she was a baby?

…………The woman returned to the counter with Aquapure, which she banged down angrily. “I don’t understand why the prices are so different,” she said, rummaging through her enormous, middle-age-lady purse. She was obviously one of those weird people who get off on paying in exact change. They always slow the line down digging for those three elusive pennies.

…………I sighed loudly as her stupid quest went on and on. Finally she handed over two quarters, three dimes, two nickels, and nine pennies. If she would have said something about “lightening the load” I would have burst into tears. The whole time she was searching she had been holding a single dollar bill in her left hand.

…………“Why are the prices so different?” she deman­ded. “It’s just water.”

…………“The containers are different,” I explained.

…………“I don’t see how that’s worth 60 cents.”

…………“65 cents, actually.”

…………“What?”

…………“65 cents difference.”

…………“Whatever. The bottles aren’t different. They’re both clear and the same size. Even the labels are both blue.”

.………..I tapped on the lid of her water. “This one says ‘Aquapure’, whereas the bottle you had up here be­fore said ‘Dasani’”.

…………Behind her stood a cowboy wanting to buy lot­tery tickets. He had the whole costume on, begin­ning with the hat. His shirt pockets had faux pearl buttons and ornately tapered flaps. He wore a large shiny belt buckle with a steer bursting through a gate on it. His boots were pointy and he shifted on them impa­tiently. He really needed to buy his lottery tickets bad. The poor bastard looked like he was about to piss in his too-tight Wranglers.

…………“It’s just water!” The woman was really upset now. Apparently, being a smart-ass to her was the wrong approach, so I tried something different.

…………“Ma’am,” I said firmly. “Water is free. Please don’t bitch to me about the price of something that’s free. We have a sink in our deli area, plus a drinking fountain, and there’s always the toilet.” I pointed at the restroom sign, which, hilariously, she turned and looked at. “Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have lottery tickets to sell.”

…………“What’s it up to?” she asked suddenly.

…………I was surprised and took a second to answer. “390 million,” I said.

…………“Better give me one.” She put down the dollar bill she had been clutching. I looked up at the clock and saw that I still had another 23 minutes of this. I sighed and printed out her lottery ticket. Finally, she was gone.

…………The cowboy came up and gave me a smile. “One of those days?” he asked. It took everything I had to not dive over the counter and stab him re­peatedly in the throat with the blue Bic pen I kept be­hind my ear…….

<end of sample>

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This, along with 20 other stories, is included in Early Onset of Night, Volume One now available on Amazon.