92615_RAA_LooseCannon_Text_R1_PROOF

myself. I know that you think I'm gonna steal a whole bunch of stuff, just fill this poor little backpack up to overflowing with White-Out and hanging file folders, and you're gonna be all embarrassed when the little alarm goes off and you have to potentially chase me down the street because I've stolen my body weight in rubber bands." At this point, the guy just doesn't know what to do, and I take pity on him.

"What's your name?" I ask.

"Wayne," says Wayne.

" Wayne, I'm Larry; and I have nothing better to do than make your life mis erable today, so why don't you go get the manager, and I'll have him tell me you don't trust your customers, and you think everybody's out to rip you off." Now, what Wayne doesn't know is that Comix Experience has an account there, and I could get one of everything in the friggin' store, and they'd have to ring it up and Bri would pay for it, because that's the kind of guy he is. As far as I'm concerned, I've got a fat blank check. No reason to steal anything at all, because it's on account. OK?

Wayne says, "I am the manager."

And I pop a cork.

"Wayne," I say, "you mean to tell me that we've spent this whole time going back and forth and you've got a customer that wants to go get something...it's right over there," I point at the big pile of paper I want to get, "and you're holding me up because of an empty backpack that I'd have to be some kind of contortionist to put something in?" At this point, the assembled Arvey's workers are starting to laugh, because it's clear that I'm going to give Wayne a hard time until he smartens up.

"I need your backpack," says Wayne.

"What are you, some kind of android?" I say. "Just tell me you think I'm going to rob you, Wayne; just be honest about it."

"It's our policy, Larry."

"Look," I say. "I know what you're saying; I work behind a cash register, too."

"What would you do, then, if you were me?" says Wayne.

"I'd get one of those guys who are laughing their asses off at your toeing

92