The only thing I want to deliver is a savage beating

*Ring Ring*

Hello, thank you for calling Lanius' Lechatarium. (Yeah, I'm making up words today. But it rolls off the tongue in an interesting manner. I suppose it should given the subject matter.)

A slightly hoarse male voice responds. "Um, hi. What kinda store are you?"

Discover a random number somewhere and got curious what was on the other end? Or were you just too stupid to discern the subject matter from the listing you were looking at? We're an adult store.

"Where are you located?"

So you were just making sure you'd found what you were looking for, no sweat. I give him the address and some generalized directions. My caller then decided to swerve rapidly off the reservation. On par with Geronimo conducting a daring day-light raid on the cavalry forts in Laos in fact.

"So what kind of movies do you have there?"

Candid footage of rest homes! In-depth interviews of senior citizens who have been in comas since Nixon's term in office! What else would an adult store stock? Holy flaming fondue forks of Armageddon this is NEVER a legitimate question. I am suddenly weary of the caller and unamused. We carry adult movies.

He changes the subject quickly upon hearing the flat, clipped tone of my voice. "Do you have any toys?"

Yes.

Apparently he decided his cunning change-up threw me off the scent from the question immediately preceding his last. "So what type of adult movies do you have?"

Pay attention this time you sodden wad of sputum, I'm not playing this game. We have a wide variety of adult movies. You'd need to stop in and take a look to get an idea of everything we stock.

He doesn't give up. I'm not surprised his train of thought is welded to the rails and chugging frantically into a cliff-face as if a tunnel will suddenly spring into existence. It's guys like this that make mine fields so rewarding. "Like what? Give me some examples. What's on them?"

Once again, it's better for you to stop in and take a look. I know damned well this mouth-breathing apple-john doesn't have the berries to crack the door here. Nor do I suspect, a valid identification card showing he's reached the requisite chronological maturity.

"OK, so how would I place an order?"

How about you contact some place that does mail-order? This isn't like a pizza place where you have the choice of dine-in, take-out or delivery. Ugh. The idea of having a delivery driver in this business just makes my stomach churn. Not worth the hassle. You don't.

"But I want to place an order."

It doesn't work that way. You come in and buy your stuff and you take it with you, we don't bring it to you.

"Oh, I...."

*Click!*

I hung up on him. My allotted minutes for dealing with ambulatory road-kill were now expended for the week.