books: Today at the Shop

The blind guy who wanders in by mistake every few weeks wandered in by mistake.
Repetition has condensed his reaction to the absolute bare essentials.

He entered preceded by his guide dog and stopped dead, shouting "BOOKSTORE?!? BOOKSTORE?!? BOOKSTORE!!" before reversing course back out onto the sidewalk.

The boss rolled in with 15 boxes of books from the library of a deceased professor of chemistry.
Great books, but his wife had gone through and placed numbered strips of multicolored post-it notes in each copy. Apparently when the boss showed up to look them over she presented him with a sheaf pages meticulously cataloging the entire library.

Anyone who's seen either of us buy books will immediately grasp the futility of this gesture, akin to precisely laying out place settings for a grand banquet of salmon before opening the hall to a hungry bear.

The end result was adding another step to my pricing routine, peeling off the scraps and piling them on the desk, where they've formed a huge motley paper tumbleweed.

A guy paid for twenty dollars of books with Sacajawea coins fished from a gym sock.
Another fellow paid his tab with twenty dollars worth of $2 bills.

I'm wearing my last surviving Insomniac Video shirt and four people have lamented its passing.
None of them top the grocery store cashier who, upon spying my shirt, nearly shouted "WHERE DID YOU GET THAT?" and started hyperventilating.

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