You're the new Hunter Hero!

People amaze me sometimes.

So, the video store I cashier at is located on one of the busiest streets in town. Right between the backwoods ghettos and the richfolk neighborhoods.

This causes an amusing clash of different personality types. And we get more business than all the other stores on the street.

But this popularity comes at a grave price. We get the most crazies.

Are you an alcoholic man in a suit who kicks his toddler son down the aisle? then come to our store.
Are you a toothless hick looking for porn who will grow irate when we dont carry it? then come to our store.
Are you a snotty 14 year old brat using mommy's credit card?
then come to our store. AND pretend you're smarter than us.
Are you a "bro" who wants to play MADDEN IXVXIIXIVI but you dont know what video game console you own? then come to our store.
Are you just an idiot? then come.
We welcome you with open arms because you'll fit right in.

Take today for example. Now, the store's been naturally quiet due to the olympics and micheal aquaman phelps murdering everyone with his fish skills. So most of the spare time I spend sprucing up random things and doodling on receipt paper.

A woman with a young child comes in. She makes a beeline to me (here comes trouble) and tells me she didnt like the movie she ordered online. (hint: it was a movie about a monster that eats people). I apologized, as per usual, despite the fact she could easily have read reviews online or asked an employee if the movie was balls or not. She ended up renting Fool's Gold (another winner!) instead.
A small line had formed so I handed her the film, she placed it with her child, and proceeded to head out the door and left. I then helped the next customer. When I notice out of the corner of my eye, she comes back in, glaring at me.

After the customer had left I asked her if she needed help.

"are you the only one working here?" she asked.

I replied:"my manager is trying to fix a problem in the back, I'm afraid. is there something i can help you with?"

"yes" (her bottom lip protruded, pouting) "i hurt my hand...in the door"

"OH!" (i was a bit taken aback. our doors are harmless. and her hand, seriously, was fine) "would you like me to call the clinic down the plaza?"

She glared at me and her eyes filled with tears and she shrieked "NO. I wish to make a complaint! I want whatever complaint hotline you guys have!"

"Oh ok! Let me get my manager, he'll know it." (this is known as 'passing the buck')

The manager came to the front. By this point the woman was looking like this:

Once again, let me note that her hand was not injured. The door to the store which closes at about 1 mile per hour had rubbed the top of her hand slightly, causing her knuckles to turn red and swell a bit. We're not even talking a 'stubbed toe' level of pain here.

The manager proceeded to ask her if she was certain the door had hurt her hand.
She pouted even harder (her bottom lip was sticking out so much you'd think she was mocking a small child, but instead was acting like one) and STAMPED HER FEET like a child as she said in what I assume she thought was a sad tortured voice:
"Yes. I want to complain. I have been to a million fucking stores in my life and have never had a door hurt my hand...like...thiiiiis" she let out a high pitched weep.

A young couple who were in line were staring in shock at the shameful display this woman (who had to be 30 or more) was putting on.
They were trying very hard not to giggle.

Eventually I grabbed a frozen ice cream from the freezer and gave it to her so she could 'soothe the swelling'
I should note, no swelling was happening. But she was clearly distressed about something so I gave it to her to use as a makeshift ice pack. The young couple exited the store, giving the woman a wide berth as she stamped her feet, had her arms crossed, and pouted angrily at my manager.

"Okay ma'am I am going to call the district manager and get the numbers to the injury hotline. I will be back in less than a minute." he said as he made his way to the phone room.

"how dare you ask me if it was the door. of course it was the door" she rasped in a low growl.

Her husband entered.
"What happened?" he cried.

Crocodile tears flowed from her mascara'd eyes again.
"I...(sniff)....hurt....(sniff)....my hand"

Her husband leapt over the freezer, a bald knight in shining armor, and was to his wife's side.
He grabbed her hand, and in his eyes I could tell he was thinking what everyone else already was but didnt dare say.
"You're fine honey..."

Her beady eyes narrowed to knives as she suddenly leaned forward and spat hatefully:
"why the FUCK werent you here? to hold the door?"

He calmly replied "because i've been picking up the dinner ingredients at publix"

What followed was another few minutes of her loudly whining that her hand was maimed forever and it would need drastic surgery and how she had to start school in two weeks.
Her son meanwhile was flapping his arms and gurgling happily.

And her Husband, during this, sat on the ground and HUNG HIS HEAD IN SHAME.

I meanwhile stood awkwardly nearby, drumming my fingers and occasionally piping up with easy remedies that could help small injuries like neosporin. Because I try my BEST to be nice to every terrible excuse of a human being who comes into the store.

My manager came back and listened for a moment as she continued to berate her husband because he had not magically poofed by her side when he was shopping, while she grabbed a chick flick to torture him with that night.
He gave her the number, and she huffily scooted out the door, her husband in tow, still with his head down, too ashamed to look up.

A wave of pity washed over me as I saw him sadly slump away, holding his happily ignorant son.

I think my inner child put a pistol to its head after that.
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Last night I tried to paint crystals. Yes, shiny geometric natural rock formations, not the 1000 porn stars named Crystal. Thank you google images, for reminding me that looking for a reference picture is never an easy, but often an amusing process.


Personally
I think it looks like absolute shit. I think it looks like a bunch of half-melted pats of butter. My friend BigArmyBug thinks it looks fine, which is the only reason I am posting it here, and not just deleting it like I do with half my paintings that dont meet my personal standards.


So here you go. Some orange blobs that were meant to be crystals.

yes, the backround IS half-assed


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On a final note, a musical chap I met from a website (who's apparently a fan of my crap) wanted to make a music video using one of my old cartoons. Aftertaste.

What emerged was a kinda cool AMV using my own animation from a while ago, but set to different music. Its odd watching it. Like an alternate ending.

Fancy Mike - Monsterville

The original animation is on albinoblacksheep and newgrounds as "Aftertaste"
Its getting pretty old, and the 'animation' (what little actual animation there actually is in it) has not aged all that well.
But you're probably not reading this looking for good animation now are you?

Speaking of, as of late I've been downloading audio from Numbers Stations again.
I think I'm going to use it for some short sick little cartoons.

Also I caught that FUCKIN HUEG spider I talked about in my last post. I will post pictures of the bastard soon.