Sluts and Cigarettes

It was a dark and stormy night at the gas station. I was working night shift and not in the best of moods because I was tired and it was probably that time of the month.

Customers were in and out all night, mostly buying cigarettes and beer. I was furiously carding all the customers as they all looked too young to be smoking and drinking.

One particular ho caught my attention. She walked in wearing a workout outfit, but the top of her outfit was so tight that it hoisted her already large cleavage upward and outward. I immediately wondered how uncomfortable that must be to workout like that at the gym.

"Can I have a pack of Salem Light 100s?" she said, popping her gum loudly in my face. Part of the gum got stuck on her lip, so she used her long claw-like purple sparkled fingernails to wipe the stray piece of gum away.

"I'll need your ID," I said, as I turned around to grab her cigarettes.

"Excuse me?" she said, staring at me with her fake eyelashes. It kind of looked like one of them was about to come off and land on her cheek.

"I need your ID," I repeated.

"Are you serious?" she scoffed, still staring at me.

"Yes," I said, now getting annoyed at this attitude from her.

"I can't fucking believe this. What an idiot," she said as she turned around on her heel, marching back outside. I watched as her butt jiggled like lumpy cottage cheese and her cankles screamed with the weight she was putting on them. I could tell those things were going to give out any day now.

As she walked to her car, I saw her stick her body through the passenger side window, reaching in to get her ID. I was worried that she was going to get stuck in her window and that I'd have to call the fire department to get her wedged out from there. Luckily she backed her body out of her window and headed back inside.

She stormed up to the register and I swear the ground moved as she walked. She whipped her ID out of her wallet and slid it across the counter to me. I looked at it to verify that she was old enough. March 3, 1993. 18 years old.

"Are you kidding me?" I said as I looked up at her. "You just turned 18 years old and you're giving me a fucking problem about getting ID'd?"

"I told you I was 18!" she yelled. I noticed that some her Purely Pink lipstick was getting stuck to her crooked teeth.

"How am I supposed to know that you just turned 18? We don't have some kind of database here that lets me know when every single person on the planet is old enough to buy cigarettes," I yelled back. By this time I was mad that she was causing a scene about this and trying to make me look stupid. "You know what? Since you want to make such a big deal about it, go buy your cigarettes somewhere else. I'm not selling them to you."

"Fine, you're a rude bitch anyhow. I hope you get caught selling to minors and have to go to jail," she said as she stormed out, and I once again had to witness her jiggly behind.

Nice comeback, fuckface.

As she got in her car and peeled away, she made sure to stop her car by my window and flick me off before driving away. Why do people always do that? I don't understand? Is that like having the last word or something?