The Muffin Man. He exists. He's crazy about his blueberry muffins. He comes in every morning at 4:30 a.m and orders three blueberry muffins - nothing more, nothing less, never anything different.
And for a guy that orders something so cute, The Muffin Man actually tries to play it tough. He's always smoking a Marlboro Red 100 when he comes to the window and he doesn't mess around. Once, I gave him the wrong total just to screw with him - just cus.
"Three muffins," I said, "that will be $5.27."
"What? No way!" he yelled into the intercom.
"Sorry, sir, but with the economy in such a terrible state and the price of gas rising everyday, we had to raise our muffin prices."
"I have to pay two dollars extra on my muffins? Bullshit! I won't pay!" he yelled.
"Ok, I will let you slide this time. Go ahead and pull up."
"You better," he replied.
Well, the other night around 2 a.m. The Sensible Skinhead told me that we were out of blueberry muffin mix.
"Shit," I said. "Zen Buddha is already trying to kill me. Now, The Muffin Man is going to want to take me out."
After much persuading, I talked The Sensible Skinhead into telling The Muffin Man the bad muffin news. I figured that The Sensible Skinhead had already been to jail. If he could handle dropping the soap, then he could handle telling The Muffin Man that we were out of his favorite muffins.
The time came: 4:30 a.m. - on the dot.
"I'm really sorry, sir, but we are out of blueberry muffins," said TSS.
The Muffin Man made some sort of corny joke. He was in denial. TSS repeated the bad muffin news. Still, The Muffin Man tried to laugh it off like this wasn't really happening to him. TSS offered The Muffin Man some low fat blueberry muffins, or some blueberry bran.
"I can't believe this," said The Muffin Man. "No, I don't want anything. Nothing!" And with that, he peeled off into the foggy morning.
"I bet he is going to kill himself," I said to TSS.
"Sounds about right," said TSS.