Cheech

So there is this customer that comes into work regularly. Once he walks in the store, all the girls bolt. He's not creepy like that. He's just.........ugh. SLOW.

We all call him Cheech. As in, he obviously has smoked way too many doobies and lost too many brain cells.

I remember when he first walked into the store and had long scraggly hair and a humongous beard. He wore army fatigues and a big straw hat. Very strange. We all thought he was homeless. The next time I saw him, he shaved his head and face.......looking like a much cleaner, yet still scraggly homeless man.

Anyway, that is not the most perplexing thing about him. The way he talks will make you want to curl up in agony. His slow, monotonous rambling voice will go on and on about anything........the way charcoal doesn't erase correctly.....how he really wants to kill his neighbor's cat.....or simply just how he wants to paint trees. But he could make the most exciting thing in the world sound absolutely, horribly boring.

I got stuck helping him for a little bit today..........and he got me cornered into hearing about his art teacher. Well, I am pretty sure that I fell asleep with my eyes open. Yeah. My mind was going in and out of consciousness.....my eyes were watering......I was yawning........ugh......I always thought.....man, I could never fall asleep standing up.

Boy, was I proven wrong today.