This particular day I was (un)lucky enough to get said register. Of course the sun began to rise right during rush hour. I scanned items while squinting and fought off the oncoming migraine that came with working at this register. Finally, there was a lull in the crowd and I was able to rest my eyes for a second.
A man wearing a black-leather biker jacket came through my line soon after. He was about two twenty, maybe a little more, six foot tall, bald, with a trimmed beard. His sunglasses rested on the top of his head. This man seemed rough and tough, with a no bull attitude. I did my usual, “Hey, how are you?”
“Doing alright,” he told me as he pulled his wallet from the back of his pocket.
While I waited for him to find his money, I rubbed my eyes and sighed loudly.
“What’s wrong with you?” He asked handing over his cash.
“This sun is killing me.” I told him pointing up to the ceiling window.
I didn’t really feel like I needed to explain that anymore than I did. I was obviously wrong. I was handing him his change when I noticed he was staring at me with an odd expression.
“What?” I asked.
“The sun,” he spoke looking back up at the ceiling.
“Yeah, it’s killing my eyes—”
Before I could finish, he interrupted me with an abrupt, “You’re a vampire!”
I watched in stunned silence as this six foot tall, two hundred pound, bald, biker man slung shot himself back and forth in my line yelling ‘vampire’; all while flapping his arms like a bat and bobbing his head up and down. He then grabbed his bag full of bread and meat and left my line, I could still hear him calling out vampire to himself as he exited the store.