"Do you sell shotgun ammo?" I asked the cashier, leaning on the counter to increase my coolness factor.
"Not by itself," she replied. "You get two free shells if you purchase a ticket to play the Romero Challenge in the arcade next door. Tickets to play cost twenty dollars and thirty-five cents."
"When will the next shipment of Blackraptor plushies be in?" I asked.
"Just because you asked," she said smugly, "never."
"That was evil," I said with a frown.
"I'm evil. Anything else?"
"Can I have a product catalogue?"
"Yeah, here's your catalogue." She outstretched her arms towards the products on the walls. "See all of that? You can't afford it." She then pushed a little plastic container of novelty pins towards me on the counter. "These are free and useless, just like you. You can take one and feel like you've done something with your life today. Deep down, though, you'll know you really haven't."
I started to feel bad about myself. As if my suicidal feelings hadn't been enough, the scarey Canadian lady had to pick on me.
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