Handling VerbsMature

“VD!” we bellow in unison as Deke slips into the room. Heads swivel, first in our direction, then to the door. Deke runs his fingers through his thick, greasy beard, gives us a good glare, and slinks his way over to us.

“You guys are such assholes,” he says, the words dribbling from his mouth in his usual mumble.  He drops his bony frame onto a chair and pours a heady glass from the half-empty pitcher presiding over the center of our table.

“How’s Nora the Snorer doing?” JJ asks.

“Well she was frisky,” he replies with a lascivious smile, “but now she’s rattling the school bus windows out in the parking lot.” JJ shoots a look to the door, then turns to face Verbs and runs a rough tongue along his lips.

“Mind if I give her a go? I’ll be real gentle - she won’t even wake up.”

“She wouldn’t wake up because she wouldn’t even feel your little ant dick in her,” Verbs says with a rasping laugh that rattles his frame. “The answer’s no anyway.”

“Aw, Verbs has found himself a special little lady,” Stinky says with a hippopotamus smile. Verbs’ chair scrapes harshly along the floorboards as he shoots to his feet; the smile never leaves Stinky’s puffy lips but his eyes go hard.

“Sit the fuck down Verbs,” I say with a long-suffering sigh. I can’t take these imbeciles anywhere. “How was work today - no more disciplinary meetings, I hope?”

“Yeah, my douche bag manager didn’t even say hello to me today,” he says as he flops back down, sticking his thin bottom lip out like a sulking child. “Big improvement.”

Verbs is a Wal-Mart greeter, the youngest on staff by about fifty years. His preferred way to while away the long hours of his shifts is to welcome shoppers with various phrases that rhyme with “Welcome to Wal-Mart” - things like “Swell boobs there sweetheart”, “Eat cum you old fart”, and “Fuck off and die bitch-tits.” Verbs has a pretty loose definition of the word rhyme.

Occasionally a sharp-eared customer will stop mid-stride and ask him to repeat himself. I bet you’re thinking that he either says it even more unintelligibly or switches to the standard greeting, right?

Well, you don’t know Verbs then. What he actually does is repeat his original welcome, twice as clear and four times as loud, with this hideous smile frozen on his face. Thus the disciplinary meetings.

Oh, I guess you’re still wondering about little old me, huh? Who am I and what do I do? Well I’ll give you a little hint.

The answer involves that plain white envelope Verbs just pulled out of the inside pocket of his denim jacket and slid across the table to my waiting hands.

The End

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