How Crotcheters Get Crotchety

, , | Right | October 6, 2012

(I work in a booth selling tickets for a carousel. I have some crocheting with me for when it’s slow. I’m crocheting as a woman and her small grandson approach the booth, so I lay aside my yarn to help them.)

Little Boy: *looks at the yarn* “What are you doing?”

Me: “I’m making a hat.”

Little Boy:” A hat for you?”

Me: “No, a hat for one of my friends.”

Little Boy: “You have friends?!”

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Renaissance Man

| Romantic | August 31, 2012

(I am at a renaissance fair, walking through the crowds in period dress. Two boys, about my age,
also in costume, come up to me.)

Boy #1: “Fair, sweet lady, I have never cast my eyes on such a beautiful soul.”

(I look a bit embarrassed, as people around us start to stare.)

Boy #2: *turns to boy #1* “But this Lady is mine. You will never gain her honour!”

(Both boys draw swords and begin to duel, with the first boy winning. He then drops to one knee in
front of me.)

Boy #1: “My lady, would you care to walk the gardens with me, hand in hand?”

(I accepted. We got talking, and two years later we are still together!)

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Popular Kids Can Leave You Incon-Soul-able

| Romantic | August 25, 2012

(My ex-boyfriend and I are with my best friend and her boyfriend. We are all walking around a county fair. Some popular girls from our school approach us.)

Popular girl: *to my best friend’s boyfriend* “Are you her boyfriend?” *motions to my best friend*

Best friend’s boyfriend: “Yes, why?”

Popular girl: “Well, I wanted to come over here to tell you I think you’re pretty hot.” *motions to my best friend again* “I hope you don’t mind!”

(The other popular girls begin to giggle.)

Me: *whispering to my ex-boyfriend* “Quick! Don’t look at them! They’ll steal your soul!”

(My ex-boyfriend throws hand over heart and gasps, and fakes his death by fainting dramatically. The popular girls stare and walk away.)

Ex-boyfriend: “Did it work? Are the soul stealers gone?!”

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Sound And Fury, Signifying Policing

| Right | August 22, 2012

(I volunteer at a rather unusual renaissance faire that showcases a number of home-built medieval weapons for competition. Prizes are awarded for authenticity, construction, and most importantly, use. My job at this point is to keep guests from wandering into anywhere dangerous. Currently, I’m stationed at the edge of a crossbow and arquebus live-fire zone.)

Guest #1: “What’s going on here?”

Me: “Stay back, please. This is the crossbow and arquebus live fire zone. The contestants are going to be shooting homemade weapons in the next few minutes.”

Guest #1: “At people?”

Me: “No sir, at targets. These are real weapons that shoot real arrows and bullets.”

Guest #1: “That sounds awesome! I’m going to stick around for that.”

Guest #2: *overhearing us talk* “Do they let visitors shoot?”

Me: “No sir, sorry. The weapons are extremely dangerous and all our participants are licensed and trained.”

Guest #1: “Aw man, I hunt all the time. Can’t I?”

Guest #2: “I’m also experienced with firearms.”

Me: “Sorry guys, no one’s allowed in without a competitor badge. What you can do is talk to the competitors after the event about getting a guests pass. They’re allowed to bring people with them, and I know they’ve invited people they’ve met at shows in the past who’ve demonstrated interest. But the show’s about to start, so I recommend trying to get some good seats.”

(The show begins, and many of the competitors are wearing period dress. When the arquebus presentation begins, my supervisor calls out the codeword for missing weapon on the radio. Before I can even start to call the police, there’s a sudden explosion, and a man awkwardly wearing a page’s shirt and a plate helmet falls over backwards. He removes his helmet, revealing Guest #1’s face. Before he can get far, Guest #2 tackles him.)

Guest #1: *to Guest #2* “Hey! You can’t do that! You don’t even work here!”

Guest #2: “The lady said you need a badge to enter the field. Well, buddy, I’ve got one of those!”

(Sure enough, Guest #2 did have a badge—a police badge!)

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Your Bigotry Is Kilting Me

| Right | August 3, 2012

(I’m working at the entrance of a local heritage fair when a white pickup truck pulls up. The driver, a large middle-aged man, gets out and stomps towards my desk.)

Customer: *slams his hands on the table* “What the f*** do you Mexicans think you’re doing?”

Me: *confused* “Sir, we—”

Customer: “Look, I don’t want you d*** w******* here in the first place. I want you all back over the border where you belong!”

Me: “Sir, I’m going to have to ask you to leave. You’re being very offensive, and this is—”

Customer: “But if you’re going to come to my godd*** country, you’re going to act like real Americans and not fly those f***ing Mexican flags and speak that s***-eating language, and you aren’t gonna celebrate being a bunch of f***ing foreigners!”

Me: “Security to entrance!”

Customer: *jumps back into his car and starts driving off* “Go back to Mexico!”

(The racist driver never returned. The heritage event in question, by the way, was the Scottish Highland Games.)

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