TPS Report 09/18/09

You know you must be a punk when you are such scum that I actually have to kick you out of a game store. So, its a sort of typical Friday night. Magic players (god help me) are in the store throwing down their tournament thingy. I, much to my chagrin, am running the tournament because my boss decided he deserved a day off. (Mother fucker worked a few months straight without one apparently. Wuss.)

So, all is going alright, because the Magic players are actually behaving themselves and not completely annoying me. However, that just can't be par for the course on FNM (Friday Night Magic). Something just has to grate on my nerves.

Enter the little tweener skateboarder punks.

I am talking about 4 or 5 kids who look like they are 12 year old Tony Hawk wannabes. They got the grunge clothes on and the spiky blond hair to match. And by grunge clothes, I mean Abercrombie shirts that have seen better days because these guys suck so bad, they wear out their clothes as they wipe out on the pavement. I swear, Ken from Streetfighter II didn't eat this much gravel on easy mode compared to these losers.

So these Boarders come in and are mouthin' off and trying to pretend they are cool by making fun of the Magic players. Now see, normally, I would join them, because most Magic players leave off an aroma of something awful. But these Magic players, for the most part, are pretty decent. Plus, they outnumber the Boarders 3:1.

But, because they are a bunch of whiny bitches who mumble the insults instead of slinging them right at the Magic Players, I feel it is my duty to defend not only the gaming industry, but my store dammit. You aren't just going to walk all up in here and start harassing my customers. Fuck no.

So, I pick out the most annoying one. Kid is about 4 foot nothing and 100 lbs wet. He looks like that sixth grader from your middle school that thought he was better than anyone else because he had blue boxers. I figured in a dysfunctional group, the kid that looks like he could most easily get the shit beat out of him was the ringleader. So, I start mocking the kid by calling him "Squirt."

Its an appropriate name really. It designates small, annoying, and high pitched. Insults begin flying between him and I, and he keeps trying to jab back, and then laughing loudly, trying to get his little groupies to join in. What he didn't understand was that while the groupies smiled, they didn't laugh. Why? Because I could beat the cream cheese out of any of them with one arm. You generally try not to laugh at people who could crush your skull like a melon.

Now, I am not Mr. Built or anything, but dammit all, I have some muscles. When I flex, I can definitely outgun anyone in that store. (I know its a game store, so thats not saying much, but considering my options at the moment, I would say I have the upper hand.)

Well, eventually, Squirt decides that he was going to make fun of my mad painting skills.

Oh no you didn't.

So I calmly put down my paintbrush and the conversation ensues to this nature:

Me: Hey Squirt.

He looks.

Me: I knew you would look. What's your name?

Squirt: Bob.

Me: Bob? (I don't believe him). Well Bob. Get the hell out of my store.

Now, it should be noted that I told "Bob" to get the hell out of the store. No one else. So when they all left, I realized that I had indeed picked out the ringleader.

So, with the circus back outside, you would think the night would be over with these clowns. But oh no. The Boarders decide to start loitering outside the store. Jumping over little lines of water that they marked on the sidewalk. I mean really. Little lines of water. They cleared the line about half the time. Sad.

Then one of their little girlfriends comes up and starts chatting with them. After a few minutes, they realize that they might get the cops called on them. So one of them dares to come back inside and ask our owner if the cops were called.

What needs to be understood about the owner is that he is first and foremost a country boy. Tall, slanky, and is quite direct. So, from my angle I see the Owner standing 6'3" + or so, and the little kid at about 4'6". Between the rural draw of the Owner and this little city kid, it looked and sounded like an episode with Foghorn Leghorn and Chicken Little.

Chicken Little: Um, did you call the police on us?

Foghorn: Boy, did I say you could come back in my store?

Chicken Little: Um...no...

Foghorn: Get out then.

More hilarity ensued when one of the Magic players called his grandfather, who was a cop. A few minutes later, he pulled up in his Crown Vic and followed the kids into the Dollar General. He didn't wait for them to come out. Oh no. He went right in after them. They promptly left the area, and we never saw them the rest of the night.

-Deimos