Waiting In Vegas

An older black couple came in this evening. They were pleasant enough so I will restrain from calling them names. Instead, I will recap the conversation that took place between me and the old man who I have nicknamed Oldilocks.

Me: Can I get you two something to drink?

Oldilocks: Do you have juice?

Me: We have orange , pineapple, tomato, or V8.

Oldilocks: (in a shaky old person voice) Do you have prune juice?

Me: Um, no. We only have juices that the bar uses to mix drinks with.

Oldilocks: So, no prune juice?

Me: Nope

Oldilocks: Well, I just don’t know what to order. I’m so used to places having prune juice.

Me: Really? Most places you eat at have prune juice?

Oldilocks: Well, I really only eat at one place most of the time and they have prune juice.

Me: Oh.

Finally Oldilocks decides to order some V8.

As I am walking by later I overhear him and his wife, Mrs Oldilocks, discussing the irregularity of his bowel movements. Gross Oldilocks – I already imagined that you poop dust – I don’t need to actually hear it.