Some time ago, I used to work the late night shift at various convenience stores, as has been related in a couple of other threads. Good source of paltry income for an occasional itinerant, as well as a great source of amusing anecdotes.
Anyhow, it was April Fools’ Day, nineteen-ninety-something. I was at a Turkey Hill (which is what they call their local brand of 7-11s) in Pennsylvania. And I’d hit the joke store that afternoon.
I’d gotten a couple of neat little items. Automatic dollar bill retractor. Garlic gum. And a six-foot, black springy-snake, like the ones found in fake-looking cans of nuts, but bigger. And a menacing shade of black.
There was a guy who kept insisting on frequenting the store at 11:30 or so, despite the fact that he never bought anything. Instead, he seemed to think that eventually, if I was pestered enough, I would relent and give him free food. He’d plead his case by wandering around the store, pointing out the inadequacies of various foodstuffs, and implying that I should be grateful to let him take them off my hands. “Man, how long have those dogs been on that grill? Nobody would eat those. You can let me have just one or two, right?” …all delivered in a delightfully slurred speech pattern, accented with 80-proof spittle-drops.
So, that fateful April 1st, he wanders in. The store is pretty full for that time of the night, and the free food guy is in fine form. Loud. After his usual scathing critique of the nachos and the hotdog, he turned his attention to the coffee machines.
“Man, how long has that coffee been up there? That’s some nasty-looking coffee.”
“I just put that on ten minutes ago.” Says I.
“That’s disgusting. Nobody should drink that. Can I have a cup of coffee?”
I draw close to him, stage-whispering conspiratorially, “You don’t want the coffee.”
By this time, we had drawn as much of a crowd as the store could offer, about half a dozen people browsing about, looking like they weren’t paying attention.
My inebriated client asked, “Why don’t I want the coffee?”
I looked about furtively. “Coffesnakes.”
“Coffeesnakes?” He replied. “I don’t believe in coffesnakes.”
Yep. He actually said that. Some members of the audience snickered furtively.
Emboldened, he continued. “I’m just gonna get a cup of coffee.”
“You don’t want to do that, really. The coffeesnakes…”
He reached for a cup, saying “Sure I do, there aren’t eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!”
Because, of course, I had put the spring-loaded snake inside the very first cup in the dispenser that my less-than-sober customer had reached for.
As a first test of the snake deployment system, I have to say it went rather well. The snake arched out of the coffee station, looking as if it was going for the kill; my favorite drunkard flung the cup away, and ran flat-out for the door, screaming like a schoolgirl all the way; and the rest of the customers dissolved into fits of the giggles.
The snake made its appearance several more times that night, but never with such dramatic effect. The customer in question, however, never appeared again.