(It’s the release day of a new set of Pokémon games, and there is a line of people to pick up reserved copies. We had so many reservations we have to turn away people who just try to pick them up, but so far it hasn’t caused any problems. Currently in line is a boy in a Charmander costume, probably about ten years old but maybe younger. A couple of older customers have been playfully telling him to use Pokémon moves like scratch and flamethrower.)

Customer #1: “Charmander, use fire fang!”

(The kid begins making chewing sounds until he decides to actually use fire fang and bites the customer in front of him in the queue on his leg. The customer yells and grabs his leg, jumping around.)

Customer #1: “S***, dude, is everything all right?”

Customer #2: “No, it’s not all right! I’m a grass type.” *in the games, grass is weak to fire*

(I don’t think my boss ever truly recovered. To this day, every time we get Charmander merchandise in, he breaks down laughing. [Customer #2] was perfectly all right by the way; he had a small mark but nothing terrible. He had reserved four copies of the games: a set of limited editions, which he got, and a set of normal ones in case the limited editions couldn’t be delivered. We sold the normal set to the kid, who had no copies reserved.)

(The trading card shop closes at 12 pm almost every night. My boyfriend works there so I am frequently there hanging out till close. The other night I hear this exchange in the front of the store.)

Customer: “Could you please move your bags? I need this area to sort cards.”

(Several others are playing cards there and just stare at him.)

Manager: “It’s 11:30. It’s a little late to start sorting cards.”

Customer: *checks watch* “Actually it’s 11:20.”

Manager: *with a look of murder in his eyes, very sarcastically* “Oh, sure, then. That extra ten minutes will give you plenty of time to sort.”

Customer: “What?”

Manager: “Never mind. Come back tomorrow and you can sort; it’s a little too late.”

Customer: “Oh, I’m sorry. I have a split personality disorder and one of them doesn’t understand sarcasm.”

(Everyone waited for him to laugh… but he was serious.)

(This story takes place a little while after “Captain America: The Winter Soldier” comes out. I am a freshman in high school and a huge nerd; I am 100% into Marvel comics, as well as the movies and TV and Netflix shows. Since I am such a fan of “Agents of Shield,” my parents got me a shirt with the Shield logo on it, which I am wearing to class today. It is one of the few days I actually have my math homework finished.)

Teacher: *after checking my work* “Nope, you’re getting a zero.”

Me: “Wait. What?”

Teacher: “Hail Hydra.”

(He does give me a grade for the assignment, thankfully. Three years later, I walk into my senior-level math class, which is with the same teacher from my freshman year.)

Teacher: “Oh, [My Name]. Good to see you, and Hail Hydra.”

(I barely passed math that year, but it was not due to the vicious rivalry between our organizations of choice, but rather my complete inability to pay attention to math.)

(My husband and I have taken our three-year-old son to see “Spider-Man: Into the Spider-Verse.” He has been to movies before and is always quiet and completely enthralled by the movie. When Spider-Man first appears, he points to the screen.)

Son: *loudly* “Batman!”

(There’s scattered giggling from adults and older children. I shush him and speak in a whisper.)

Me: “No, not Batman. Remember? Mama told you that we’re seeing Spider-Man.”

Son: *also whispering* “Spi-yer-Man?”

Me: “Yes, Spider-Man. But we have to be quiet.”

Son: *whispers loudly and points again* “Spider-Man!”

(For the rest of the movie, he is silent as he eats his popcorn and sips his drink. But then, Miles Morales shows up in his black and red Spidey suit and:)

Son: *loudly and excitedly as he points* “IT BATMAN!”

(It seemed like the entire theater broke into a giggling fit at my son’s enthusiastic mistake.)

I was working at my volunteer job, socializing cats at the local animal shelter, when I noticed that we had a new kitten in with the name of Phil. A young couple entered and began examining our kittens, when suddenly I heard one of them say, “Phil? His first name is Agent!”

Unsurprisingly, Phil was swiftly adopted.