Assholes

"Do you give any sort of discounts?" he asked me.

I guessed he was in his mid fifties. He was balding and had a beer belly that stuck out from his tight tshirt that he had left over from his college years.

"Any sort of military discounts? Discounts for retards?" he asked and pointed to his 15 -year-old daughter. She rolled her eyes. Her hair was slicked back. She wore a System of a Down shirt with black pants with excessive buckles.

"No. No discounts," I said and faked a laugh. God, I hate people like him.

"Do you speak English?" he asked me. "Yes, no?"

I stared blankly at him.

Asshole.