Stephenie Meyer Wrote This One

, , , , , | Working | April 12, 2018

(A friend and I are at the checkout line in a department store. The cashier at the till adjacent to ours interrupts our conversation and starts talking to me.)

Cashier: “You! You! Hey, you! Yeah, you! What’s wrong with you?”

Me: “I’m sorry?”

Cashier: “What’s wrong with you?”

Me: *wondering when that ever worked as clarification* “Nothing’s wrong with me.”

Cashier: “Yeah, but what’s wrong with your complexion?”

Me: “Nothing?”

Cashier: “You look like you’re paler than you’re supposed to be. Do you know what sun is?”

Me: “I have an interesting combination of genetics that somehow makes me immune to sunlight. I neither burn, nor tan, and no matter how long I am outside, I will not get darker.”

Cashier: “Oh, so, you’re a vampire.”

(I don’t think that means what you think it means.)

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