No one's gonna trash my Van Nuys!

So, check it.  I was standing in front of the cashier at the Kwikie-Mart today, just doing my thing, going about my business, just all-around keeping it real, when I noticed a stash of scratchers that somebody had left behind.  This neanderthal had bought like $100 in scratchers and just ran the bar codes through the scanner without actually scratching the main parts—like no foreplay, just straight to the point.  None came up winners; and I imagine he got angry and left them all there.

So I start currying favor with the cashier.  So I guess your counter is someone's trashcan, huh? What is this, Ecuador?...What were they, raised by wolves?....It's bad enough they're indulging such vices...

So as I'm waiting I shuffle through the scratchers, in case there's a winner, and I notice one with no marks on it.  Not even the bar code had been scratched off.  This bozo bought four of the same $10 scratcher.  Three of them were losers, like him, and he didn't even check the fourth one—maybe he had an epiphany.  One's eventually gotta give you something back to keep you hooked.  I looked up at the cashier and said, You know what, you better let me throw these away.  These days—and surely it is a sad state of affairs when cliches undermining the decency of human folk are true—you want something done, you got to do it yourself.

So I put the scratchers aside and forgot about them.  When I got home from work again, I was so drunk and depressed, I went to sleep muttering at everything.  I woke up in time to make the last AA meeting of the night.  There's a bar next door, and I like to watch the Mexican girl sweep up.  Sure enough, I took out that scratcher, and in the fast spot I won 100 shamoolians.  

I waved it in the air, and said, "Hey baby, you impressed now?"

She looked up, shook her head and waved me off, and continued sweeping.