(Every year, my town hosts Sundance, which tends to bring some strange people along with it. I am the only one working in a very small paint store, right before close. A customer comes in and proceeds to look around the store for about 15 minutes.)

Me: “I am sorry, sir. We are getting ready to close. Can I help you find something?”

Customer: “I am looking for stuff to make a pipe.”

Me: “Well, sir, we do have some stuff to fix plumbing pipes.”

Customer: “No! I need to make a pipe to smoke out of.”

Me: “Uh, we really don’t have anything like that.”

Customer: “What the h*** kind of hardware store is this?!”

Me: “…A paint store?”

Customer: “Oh… then, can I buy some spray paint to get high on?”

Me: “No, sir. That is illegal.”

Customer: “Even during Sundance?”

Me: “Especially during Sundance!”

Customer: “Buzzkill!” *walks out*