The cashier crushes it

I don’t have a CVS card, which prompts the cashier to say, “How in the hell have you made it this far?”

“Sacrilege,” I say. “Not having a card.”

“Yeah, but don’t worry. We just put you on a list.”

“Wouldn’t I be on a list if I had a card?”

“No, it’s a different list,” she says. “A list of people who are afraid of the dark. But we don’t use your name. We just call you number 847.”

I’m a little confused by the strange turn in the conversation, but she explains.

“That’s the price,” she says. “The price for your night light.”

I swipe my card.

“Sorry,” I say. “I guess I’m a little slow.”

Suddenly, she claps her hands together.

I jump a little.

“No,” she says. “Your reflexes are fine.”

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