The girl with chartreuse hair asked, “And have you sold clothes with us before?” She had a bowl cut with a rat tail. I couldn’t see what she wore from the waist down as the counter separated us, but her top half was clad in a ripped up concert tee under a gaudy neon 80s blazer complete with shoulder pads. I spied an owl face tattoo on the side of her neck. Most of the girls working at Arizona Trading Company were like this – crazy hair, piercings, tattoos, and master thrift-store fashionistas. I fit right in even though I wasn’t quite up to their level of intensity.
“Yeah,” I answered, adjusting my hipster glasses and removing my beanie. It felt toasty in here.
“Alright, so you know our policies. Why don’t you have a look around and we’ll call your name when we’re ready with the offer.” She set my bag aside. I nodded and began scouring the racks of clothing. I headed over to the vintage section first. My heart soared as I handled glorious bell bottoms, scooter dresses, crocheted vests, and other decades-old goodies.
After ten minutes or so I’d found a few items to try on. In my own little clothing-obsessed world, I continued to sort through the remaining racks. I wasn’t far from the counter. At this point in time I debated on whether I should try on a leather skirt when I heard a gasp at the counter. I glanced at the girl who had talked to me. “I feel something warm and squishy in here!” she cried, her hand buried deep in my bag of clothes. A few of the other salesgirls had gathered. They were all staring inside my bag and frowning. The girl finally pulled the mysterious item up from the abyss. “It’s a…oh my God it’s a burrito!”
Oh, SHIT. I had stopped at Taco Bell on the way over and tossed the burrito in the bag of clothes on the passenger side seat. I had planned to eat it in the parking lot when I arrived, but forgot about it. It must have wormed its way toward the bottom of the bag as the car went around turns. It wasn’t a naked burrito, at least. The wrapper held it securely.
“Ewww!” The other girls squealed. The green-haired girl looked over at me. The other girls’ gazes followed, silently waiting for an explanation because what kind of sicko does that?!
“It’s a cheesy bean and rice burrito. Surely that’s worth something?” I suggested.
“Seriously?” Bowl cut babe was not pleased.
“Surely you’ve seen worse things in people’s bags than a fresh burrito?” I inquired.
She pondered for a moment. So did the other girls. One of them got this demented grin on their face. “Yeah, I’ve seen worse.” She looked up at the ceiling, dwelling upon the heinous fiasco of 2003. Soon the others remembered. “Ooohhhhhhhh” they droned simultaneously.
“Okay, gimme my burrito – I just got it on the way here and forgot to take it out of the bag. Sorry for the scare!” Then we all laughed and I made…