Lost And Found Your Body

, , , , , | Right | November 12, 2017

(A teenage girl comes into my craft booth, who I recognize from a previous visit.)

Me: “Welcome back!”

Girl: “Did you see a cell phone anywhere?”

Me: “No, but let’s look.”

(We check all around the booth and under tablecloths, but we don’t find a cell phone.)

Me: “Have you checked Lost and Found?”

Girl: “No, but I know I used it here; I sent a picture of that necklace.”

(She leaves, upset. A while later she comes in with a man, a phone in hand.)

Me: “Glad you found your cell phone!”

Girl: “No, this is my dad’s; I’m using a find-a-phone app. The phone should be making a loud noise.”

(The man starts looking under my tables, grumbling, so I help double-check the area. The whole time, he is glaring at me.)

Man: “Well, I don’t hear it, but they’ve probably put it somewhere muffled. Where the h*** is her phone?”

Me: “I hope she finds it.”

(Suddenly he gets in my face, angry.)

Man: “Look, she had it here. You’re going to give me back my daughter’s phone.”

Me: “I don’t have it.”

Man: “I know you stole her phone. Give it back.”

Me: “Look, I’m sorry she lost it. Have you checked Lost and Found?”

(Suddenly he knocks over a display, grabbing my shirt.)

Man: “Listen, you little [gay slur]. If you don’t give me her phone, they aren’t going to find your body!”

Me: “Help! Help!”

(Luckily, one of the police officers at the event is nearby and comes over immediately. The man lets go of me when he sees the officer, but knocks over more displays. The man argues with the office, and is eventually put in handcuffs. I’m picking up my displays and assessing damages when the event organizer comes over to talk to the police and to me. When she hears the whole story, she looks at the daughter.)

Organizer: “Was it a [Phone] in a pink glitter case? Someone turned that into Lost and Found an hour ago.”

(That was it!)

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