Do Nice People Get Discounts? part lll

Michael came after class. Because he’s under 21, he relieved my position at the counter while I went out to get the 40s and Doritos.

Halfway through our bottles and a thorough discussion on the religiously marginalized (no, we weren’t bemoaning the plight of Scientologists), Scatterbrain came up to the counter with a couple books: one on Victorian lace-weaving, and the other on god-knows-what, each priced at eight dollars a piece.

“Will you come half off these books?” she asked. She had worn-down face that reminded me of Winstons, microwave burritos, and the teeth of aged Quarterhorses.

“Excuse me?”

“Will you come down on these. Half-off,” she said. She blinked.

“Um, I’m only qualified to take 10% off, and that’s only if you ask particularly nicely,” I said, my tongue a little thick from the beer. “And anyway, Happy Dusty is going out of business, like, tomorrow, so we’re in now position to award half-off discounts.”

Scatterbrain slid the books toward me.

“Well, I could get these books much cheaper on-line,” she said, walking toward the door.

I chucked her discarded books onto a nearby cart. Michael sat there with his paper-wrapped 40. I made no attempt to mask my anger.

“Yeah, lady, you do just that,” I said. “Come by tomorrow and see if there’s not a goddamn padlock on the door.”

fucking cooze.