Russian Into Things

(One evening a very obviously young teenager (15 or 16) comes in and tries to buy a p*rnographic magazine. After I inform him I can’t sell to him without seeing an ID he sticks around and starts chatting me up. I am a very tall woman in my mid-twenties while he was very short and petite.)

Kid: “You know, the main reason I wanted to buy a magazine is because I’ve been deprived of the company of women for most of my life. You see…” *he leans up against the counter, looks around the room and says in a stage whisper* “…I was trained from birth in a Russian compound to be a deadly assassin.”

Me: *trying not to laugh* “Go on…”

Kid: “I’m the best there is at the trade. I became the youngest secret KGB agent.”

Me: “The KGB actually hasn’t existed for several years now.”

Kid: *nodding gravely* “That’s because I took them all out when I went rogue. Since then I’ve been freelancing. But now that I have more money than I know what to do with, I’ve been thinking about getting out of the game. You know, finding a beautiful woman and settling down in my French chateau. What do you say? Want me to take you away from all this?”

Me: *having serious trouble keeping a straight face* “That’s very sweet. But aren’t I a little too old for you? Not to mention I’m nearly two feet taller.”

Kid: “That’s okay. That’s the way we like ’em in Russia!”

Me: “Kid, you are one cocky little s***. If you weren’t underage I’d buy you a drink.”

Kid: “Well, if you come with me we can go to a country where the legal drinking age is much lower. You know, in Russia I’ve already reached the age of consent. If you get my drift…”

Me: “Thanks, but I’m afraid I’ll have to pass.”

Kid: *sigh* “Oh well it, was worth a try. Do svidaniya!”