I like to email people, because it's quasi-writing. We're not always busy, but this past Labor Day we were. So, a couple I'd been communicating with for about eight months came in to finally buy their item. Yay me.
While I was working with them, Mr. Poodle scampers over looking like the rat from Harry Potter, talking about I had guests. Who are they, I asked.
He points to this lady. A lady I've never seen in my life. I asked what was her name and he kept pointing like a broken Kewpie doll.
Really, jerk face? One, I'm busy. Two, how about getting some information before you talk to me!
I go over to the lady, she was supposed to come see me the next day. Mr. Poodle proceeds to take over. Did I tell you that I've been talking to this lady for two months.
And then, this fool is supposed to be sick. But as soon as these people say they're coming in to get their product, he hopes out of the flea bag doghouse where he was — OK, I don't know where the poodle was, but he wasn't in the hospital.
But guess what. He only gets half of the money. BLAM! That's what happens when you're Shady Boots!
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