“Sir, our refund policy is quite clear,” the smug-faced, shit-eating, fuck-witted clerk explains to you like you’re some kind of asshole. He points to a sign placed neatly on the sales counter that reads NO REFUNDS OR CHANGE GIVEN.
“Are you even listening to me, you dipshit?” you inquire politely. “This piece of garbage doesn’t work the way it’s supposed to!”
You push your broken item across the counter to the clerk and he recoils slightly, his lips drawing back in utter disgust.
“See?” you scream demurely. “You don’t even want to touch it! How am I supposed to use it as intended if you don’t even want to lay hands on it?”
“Sir,” the ass-wipe, scrotum-faced, bitch-made clerk says with obvious condescendence, “me not wanting to touch it has nothing to do with its functionality and everything to do with it’s…used…nature. I mean, look at the fluids on it!” The look of disgust returns to his face as he finishes speaking, “look at the solids on it.”
“Look here, fucknuts,” you say, addressing the clerk in a soothing manner using his proper title, “you nee-“
“Sir, I’m going to stop you right there,” he interrupts rudely. “You need to take your…goods...and leave this store. Now.”
You retrieve your busted purchase and make for the door, as you pass through, you give a warm farewell to the clerk. “Eat shit, asshole! This is the last time Tom’s Dildo’s get’s my business!”