A kid was at my register who kept asking me questions, I'd answer them, and he didn't seem to get the simple answers. His mind kept wondering and he kept looking around.
Why the fuck are you so retarded? Why haven't I killed myself yet? These questions ran through my mind as I wiped butter flavoring off of my sleeve.
A man steps up to the registewr next to mine that my boss was on.
He was big. He was black. He was famous. I finally realized why the kid at my register was distracted.
Me and the kid stared at him. The big guy asked me: "What's your name?"
"Ian" I said.
"I know that, he said, but whats your whole name?" He touched my nametag.
He did this to the two other people behind the counter as well.
"My name is Shaquille." He said.
He walked into the theatre that was playing HOSTEL, with his arm around some fly chick.
All of us employees of the theatre discuss it for a moment and go about our business. It's not terribly uncommon for famous people to come into our theatre as it is located right in the middle of all the really nice hotels in Portland. Billy Idol has come in. I think Cher came in once. Alice Cooper was the last celebrity to do so.
So I closed down the snack bar and did my usual end-of-the-night stuff. Hostel started to get out and I didn't think anything of it because I figured the big guy would go out the back exit door to avoid people. I prop the door open, and start talking to a guy I knew that had just seen the movie.
All of a sudden, I am purposely bumped by a huge body by an unknown assailant. I whip my head around and there is SHAQ. He wiggles his fingers in my face and makes some noises that are in the same essence as saying "BOO!" and he walks away. What do I say? Well, the best thing I came up with was:
"Oh... hey."
BITCH.
oh, eric where's zacattac.com?
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