Last July 11- like every July 11- was Free Slurpee Day. I was amped. I went to one of my local 7-11s and they didn't offer the free Slurpee cups. So I walked out. I went to the other 7-11, a 30 second drive away from the first.
I saw the holy free Slurpee cup stand and went to town. I took three cups, filled them up, drank some of the Slurpee from each, and filled them up again. As I was walked out, the clerk, a pleasant African man who I was on friendly terms with, stops me. "You can't take three!" I told him that I come every day and buy a Slurpee, which should entitle me to three. He seemed to accept that point (amazingly; it's admittedly a pretty poor point), but argued back that if I took three, everyone would want to take three.
At this point I fired back, "So do you want me to throw these out? What's the difference now?" He gave me a sheepish smile coupled with an epic eye roll; I thanked him and walked out, cups in hand.
I knew I'd have to abide by a self-imposed exile from that 7-11 for a while until the heat simmered down. I decided that yesterday, September 4, was enough time that, even if the clerk were present, he would've forgotten all about it. I walked in and sure enough I spotted the clerk. He saw me and a knowing smile swept across his face. He walked over to me and offered an over-dramatic, "Hello."
I greeted him back and walked to the Slurpee machine with my tail between my legs. I couldn't believe he remembered me. The only thing I can think of is that I possess an extremely memorable kind of handsomeness.
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