Two years ago, Liz installed a porno room in her store. The shelves are lined with every porno movie known to man. To avoid people stealing them and to stop any embarrassment of some poor, lonely librarian having to carry the movie box out in front of other people so everyone in the store knows she likes midget donkey sex, the DVD cases are empty and each one is assigned a three-digit number. If anyone wants to buy one, they just have to come up to the front counter and tell the cashier what number they want. Instead of saying, “I’d like to buy ‘Dickman and Throbbinhood’,” they can just say, “Could I get number four-twenty-three, please?”
Since neither Carter nor Jim want to actually get maced in the face, we decide to spray some mace in the small porno room where it will be easily contained. Then, we can just walk in there and see how we’re affected. We never really have to tell anyone how we were maced; we can just tell people from now on that we have “experience” with being maced. It’s kind of perfect if I do say so myself.
It’s sad, really, that I can’t find a good macing shirt for the occasion. Instead, I had to settle for my backup for emergency situations: I’m full of awesome.
“Shouldn’t we wait until the store closes?” Jim asks, looking nervously at the door.
“Your wife will be back before the store closes. We need to do this shit now,” I tell him, grabbing the industrial size can of mace from under the counter. “The girls were out of commission for what, twenty minutes or so? And they were sprayed directly in the eyes. Since we’re just going to be standing in a room where it’s lingering in the air, we’re probably only going to get a small percentage of what they got. We’ll be fine. Even if a customer does come in, they'll have no idea what’s going on.”
Jim taps his fingers on the counter, looks over at the door again, and then down at his watch. “Okay, fine. Let’s hurry up and get this over with in case Liz comes back early.”
Carter and I let out a victory yell, and I hand him the can to let him do the spraying.
“Go ahead man, just open the door a crack, spray as much as you can, and shut it really quickly,” I explain.
Carter takes the can, gives me a salute, and turns and jogs down the hallway.
As soon as he leaves, the bell above the door rings and Jim and I turn around and see three women walk in the door.
“Shit, customers. What the fuck do we do?” Jim whispers frantically.
“Relax. It’s contained in the back room. We just wait on them like normal and then go back there. If the mace all faded away, Carter can just spray it again,” I tell him.
The three women are off in a far corner giggling over something on one of the shelves so I wander over to where they are and see if they need any assistance.
“Hello there, ladies. What can I help you with this evening?”
They all start giggling again and each one turns bright red when they try and look me in the eyes.
“Um, well, my friend Jamie here has never been to a sex toy store before. So, what would you recommend for her first toy?” one of the women asks.
Normally, I enjoy helping out the customers in Liz’s store. I’m kind of a genius when it comes to all of the things in here but as soon as I start to impart my wisdom on them, my nose starts to tickle and I feel a sneeze coming on.
I let out four rapid sneezes right in a row and apologize to the ladies, asking them to follow me to another display so I can show them a few things for beginners.
As I’m holding up a bullet with a cock ring attachment, I feel my eyes start to itch and I’m wondering if I’m suddenly getting allergies or something. The three girls are so embarrassed they are barely even listening to what I’m saying, and I feel like my sex intelligence is wasted on them. I’m holding the bullet and I’m rubbing my eyes furiously now since they won’t stop itching.
“Oh my God, my eyes are so itchy,” one of the women complain.
From behind me, I hear hacking coughs and I turn to see what’s going on with Jim and Carter but my eyes are watering so bad I can barely see them.
Next to me, two of the women start coughing and complaining that their throats itch.
What the fuck is going on?! Is this the fucking zombie apocalypse? Are we all infected with something that’s going to make us foam at the mouth and eat people’s faces??!
“Fuck! Did you guys eat bath salts tonight? Did you breathe bath salts on me or something?” I ask the women as I too start coughing and tears run down my cheeks.
My eyes are starting to burn and itch at the same time, and I feel like I can’t cough hard enough or long enough to stop my throat from itching.
“Drew!” Jim yells between hacking coughs from the counter.
I drop the bullet and cock ring on the floor and tell the women not to move which is pointless because two of them are now sitting on the floor clawing at their eyes while the other one is leaning against a display case sneezing over and over.
I scramble back to the counter as best I can since my eyes are watering so badly that everything is blurry. My coughing gets worse the closer I get to Jim and Carter, and I see they are having the same problems I am. Carter is sitting on the floor behind the counter digging his fists in his eyes while he sneezes and Jim is dry heaving in between coughs.