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Cannery Row was like a morgue all weekend. But the Little Store did good. Okay Friday, marginal Saturday, strong Sunday. Go figure.
Mostly this is because we attract huge numbers of repeat customers. In fact I don’t think one person came into the store all weekend who hadn’t been in several times before. This was distracting. People kept coming up to the counter and smiling, asking about my children and dogs. Since one of my favorite ways of amusing myself in the Little Store is to concoct elaborate lies involving my children and dogs, it threw me off a little.
“So did little Gregory ever get over his… you know?” asks a gray-bearded gentleman with a merry wink.
O-kay! So he was last here in August when for one whole week I spun yarns about a mythical teenage son’s amazing misadventures with the Pacific Grove school district. Of course I don’t live in Pacific Grove. I think I was channeling Cody.
( You must be over 18 to even think about looking at this picture! )
The Number One seller was something called Hard On. A sauce that, um, comes with a toy attached to it.
Now hot sauce is big on scatalogical humor. You have your Colon Cleaner, a really tasty Bajan-style sauce (which is to say it combines scotch bonnet peppers with mustard and originated on the island of Barbados.) You have your Anal Angst – particularly popular with German tourists –, a super-spicy Worcestershire. You have your Ass In the Tub, Analyze This, Flamin’ Flatulence, Rectal Rocket Fuel. With graphics to match. The list goes on and on and on, and I’ve had all these sauces in the Little Store from the start.
I’m a relatively late convert to X-rated sauces though. We get a lot of kids in the store. It amuses me to have an adoreable seven year old pull a bottle of mango sauce off the shelf and lisp angelically, “Look, Mommy! Camel Toe!” But it’s not quite as amusing to hear her spelling out “The Hottest Fuckin’ Sauce.” I guess I’m inconsistent.
One day I was opening up a case of what I thought was Hard Time. Big seller with guys who work at the maximum security penal facility in nearby Soledad.
Wait a minute, thought I to myself. Those prison guards are not gonna go for those extremely life-like penis keychains that extrude white stuff when you squeeze them –
And then I realized: they sent me the wrong stuff!
When you have a lemon, you make lemonade, right?
I started an X-rated shelf. It’s way up high and I made a sign for it: ADULT CONTENT, Too Hot To Swallow. You must be over 18 to look at this shelf.
When they buy Hard On, people generally smuggle it to the counter underneath their shirts.
Mostly this is because we attract huge numbers of repeat customers. In fact I don’t think one person came into the store all weekend who hadn’t been in several times before. This was distracting. People kept coming up to the counter and smiling, asking about my children and dogs. Since one of my favorite ways of amusing myself in the Little Store is to concoct elaborate lies involving my children and dogs, it threw me off a little.
“So did little Gregory ever get over his… you know?” asks a gray-bearded gentleman with a merry wink.
O-kay! So he was last here in August when for one whole week I spun yarns about a mythical teenage son’s amazing misadventures with the Pacific Grove school district. Of course I don’t live in Pacific Grove. I think I was channeling Cody.
( You must be over 18 to even think about looking at this picture! )
The Number One seller was something called Hard On. A sauce that, um, comes with a toy attached to it.
Now hot sauce is big on scatalogical humor. You have your Colon Cleaner, a really tasty Bajan-style sauce (which is to say it combines scotch bonnet peppers with mustard and originated on the island of Barbados.) You have your Anal Angst – particularly popular with German tourists –, a super-spicy Worcestershire. You have your Ass In the Tub, Analyze This, Flamin’ Flatulence, Rectal Rocket Fuel. With graphics to match. The list goes on and on and on, and I’ve had all these sauces in the Little Store from the start.
I’m a relatively late convert to X-rated sauces though. We get a lot of kids in the store. It amuses me to have an adoreable seven year old pull a bottle of mango sauce off the shelf and lisp angelically, “Look, Mommy! Camel Toe!” But it’s not quite as amusing to hear her spelling out “The Hottest Fuckin’ Sauce.” I guess I’m inconsistent.
One day I was opening up a case of what I thought was Hard Time. Big seller with guys who work at the maximum security penal facility in nearby Soledad.
Wait a minute, thought I to myself. Those prison guards are not gonna go for those extremely life-like penis keychains that extrude white stuff when you squeeze them –
And then I realized: they sent me the wrong stuff!
When you have a lemon, you make lemonade, right?
I started an X-rated shelf. It’s way up high and I made a sign for it: ADULT CONTENT, Too Hot To Swallow. You must be over 18 to look at this shelf.
When they buy Hard On, people generally smuggle it to the counter underneath their shirts.
