I stopped at a gas station last week. I was filling up my Honda Odyssey. A well-dress dude drove up in a Toyota . He walked up to me and asked for a dollar.
Creep: I’m a subprime broker who lost his job, and I need dollar for gasoline.
Me: A dollar?!? That won’t get you anywhere, dude! (Thinking that a dollar won’t buy even a half gallon of gas.)
Creep: I need a dollar real bad.
Me: So you say you’re are a subprime broker who is out of a job, right?
Creep: That’s right.
Me: Well! That’s a good line, but it don’t work with me. (I stepped around him and walked toward the Valero Station to get a soft drink.)
Creep: (following me) Are you saying that I am lying? I’m not lying! It was not a line!
Me: Ok! OK! That was a bad line, but you still don’t get money for me, creep! (I continued walking into the gas station and the Creep stays outside.)
Creep: (Suddenly bursts into the station yelling at me.) I am not lying to you! I AM out of a job!
Me: (Pointing my finger inches from his face.) GET AWAY FROM ME, CREEP!
CREEP: (Walking away!) I’ll be waiting for you outside!
Me: Go ahead, Creep! (I make my purchase and leave. I find Creep waiting for me outside beside his car.)
Creep: I got your license plate number. I’m going to come and KILL YOU!
Me: I have a .30-30 rifle with a scope. You better not get within a 100 yards of me, Creep! (I get in my car and drive away, leaving the subprime broker Creep by his car.)