At the mall. Being at the mall is bringing me back. Back to my Orange Julius days (proud member of the world's smallest union: Underage Orange Julius Slaves With Second-Degree Burns Local #561). It has me thinking about guys who work in shoe stores (AKA, "shoe store guys"). Not the kind of guy who gamely mans up and takes one for the family, to put food on the table. No. I'm talking about the sort of dude in his mid to late 20s who lives at home like a total mammoni, gets an allowance from his parents and steals his dad's vodka and replaces it with water. He will have a soul patch, work out at noon daily without visible results, be so 420 friendly it's more like 840 and tussle physically with his grandmother if she tries to remove her gas card from his wallet. (I am describing him circa 1985ish, but it doesn't matter; slap an iPhone in his hand and -- boom! -- you got a current version.) College money was on the table, but somehow seven years at Community College of the Erstwhile Bowl Smokers have flown by, with neither degree nor urge toward matriculation presenting itself. No problem -- there are high-school girls aplenty to admire him! They work at Hot Dog on a Stick, Orange Julius and Mickey Ds. They have tan, flat stomachs and he can get 'em drunk for $1.69 (which will buy an entire bottle of Boone's Farm Kountry Kwencher or a Bartles & Jaymes wine cooler). The idea that sorta cute sorta older shoe store guy could be arrested for letting them suck his dick in the ice cooler never crossed their mind (oh, the innocence!). Anyway, I was wondering if any of you, former high-school girls, actually did the nasty with the shoe store guy? Or were you the shoe store guy? Time to confess, m'dear...
Oh, gotta go. The Hair Straightener Kiosk Guy has me in his sights...
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