Scoop-Slinger Confidential Vol 1.

Folks who are subscribed to my Facebook feed may have already seen this story.

But for the rest of you...

Tonight at my night job (ice cream man), we had a customer that was completely fucking bent. He wandered in like a zombie, his coat on backwards and upside-down, his pants soaked with what I can only guess was urine, hair in his face, barely able to stand. If he wasn't so young, and his clothes weren't designer label, I would have assumed he was just another meandering hobo (we get them from time to time).

He stumbles up to the ghea and says "I need a chocolate frosty". I informed him he wasn't in Wendy's, and we only have chocolate shakes. He repeats "I need a chocolate frosty. I need it". My co-worker stares at me with a "what should I do" look? We make the guy a chocolate milkshake. He ambles to the register, nearly plowing into some other customers waiting for their orders. His eyes were redder than Satan's asshole. He splays several hundred dollar bills on the counter and clumsily hands us one. We change him like 95 bucks, which nearly empties our register (this being the second person that night that paid with a hunsky), and it takes him a good two or three minutes of evident strain to figure out how to get the straw into the cup without spilling it. After a nerve-wracking eternity of him stabbing at the top of the cup like it was a trapped animal that refused to die, he finally got the damn thing in. He then walked away, leaving the shake on the counter, completely forgetting what it was and why he was there. We handed him the cup to reaffirm his endeavor, and he slipped out the store quietly.

Later that night as we were closing up, my co-worker returns after taking the trash out for the night and informs us that the guy had spilled his entire shake about a foot from the front door.

Any guesses as to what this guy was on?