the Beaver

When I say Beaver, I am referring to not only the animal, but also a customer. In my opinion, she looks like one. She has the perfect teeth, she talks with a lisp (which is what I imagine a beaver to talk like), she spits when she talks, and she wears a fanny pack. She also carries a walking stick with her, just like a log but not really. She brought in her stupid friend today, who instead of wanting to pay for her drink offered me a poem instead. Unfortunately, a poem written on the back a free postcard doesn't really "pay" for a drink. Maybe, maybe if it could have made me cry, then I would have let it slide but it was only about flowers, and that doesn't make a person cry. So Beaver and cheapie kept trying to talk to me about their day and I tried gratiously to keep wiping the spit off my face without offending them, but finally I just ducked under the counter and pretended to look for something. They kept talking for awhile, surprising enough until they realized I hadn't responded in the last 2 minutes.
So I have newly decided that alcohol might be the answer. If I can just drink during my shift, everything will seem funnier. And maybe my face will be numb so I won't even feel it when people are spitting all over me