Knock Knock Knockin’

Last Friday I had the 3:30-7:00 p.m. shift, but what could I do? I kept asking for Saturdays off, and now my Bank of America digits were coming closer and closer to the big O. I needed the money, so I was driven to accept the awkward time slot. Like any resourceful teenager, I stalked the aisles and pulled out the gem of unnecessary, impulse-buy shelvery: a world’s greatest kids knock knock joke book.

The jokes were cornier than the produce. They were the kind of jokes make you feel more sorry for the human race than walking through the Poptart aisle. But everyone needs a good laugh at the end of a hard day; especially when you’re a weary holiday shopper and you can’t take me home to keep the boring relatives at bay.

I had to ask everyone out of courtesy if they would like to hear a knock knock joke, because it’s rude if you just start taking cracks before “Paper or plastic?” Some people actually had the nerve to say no, but I held the trump for them. The conversation would stop (the checker was in on this too) and we would both stare at the customer awkwardly until they paid and left. Then I had the last laugh.

But for everyone else, we had a jolly time. It was like we were old friends, catching up on some forlorn high school gossip (I mean that both figuratively and literally, I meet a couple Cure people who knew the Nichols brothers, and I couldn’t help but name drop) or golden memories with some catchy punch lines. Some people even spit the humor back at me. One lady was full of cow jokes, and we went back and forth about utter disasters, poor manners, and milk duds.

Eventually, customer service and the assistant manager caught on, and they took my book away. For those fleeting four minutes, I felt like Charlie Brown, with a gray cloud over my head and lonely sadness in my heart. What would I ice-break with now? I tried “What’s your favorite color?” or “Did you find everything all right today?” or “Ooo, I like your bags!” but nothing could start a friendship quite like my world’s greatest.

So I went back and got another one and hid it under the Cold Sacks. I felt rebellious and imagined myself leading a store-wide mutiny for a brief moment, but then I realized my shift was just about up. I had defeated the clock and customer service, singly handedly, with a five dollar book that will unfortunately collect dust until we get the newest version (we’ve already been through two). It was an inexplicable feeling, and the night only got better after that with my favorite Chipotle dish and a bag of Swedish fish.

Laughter: a remedy you won’t find by the cough medicine.

Nuisance of the week: The weather. Why does it have to cold rain when I’m working and shine warm when I’m off?

Best item you’ve never heard of: Chicken Poop chap stick, by the cold medicine.

Weekend tip count: $2 (From a lady who was absolutely enthralled with my jokes. She actually brought her groceries to her car, then came back in and patted me on the back. Thank you, generous and humor-appreciating stranger.)

Some of my favorites:

Knock Knock.

Who’s There?

Hank.

Hank who?

You’re welcome.

What do you call a cow who makes no milk?

I don’t know, what?

A milk dud.

Knock  Knock.

Who’s there?

Interrupting cow

Interrupt-

Moo!

Knock Knock

Who’s there?

Peeka

Peeka who?

No, it’s not peeka who, it’s peeka boo.

Knock knock.

Who’s there?

Howie

Howie who?

I’m fine. Howie you?

Knock Knock

Who’s there?

China

China who?

China chilly outside, don’t you think?