Return of the Nacho Cheese Bullshit Lady

She returns -- the young drunk woman I wrote about in "That's Bullshit!" -- drunk again (or still drunk?)  This time she's not alone.

She comes in around 2:15, not long after the bars closed, wanting to buy some wine. I tell her I can't sell alcohol after 2:00. State law. "That's bullshit!" she says. The middle-aged pudgy guy she is with seems a bit embarrassed. He nervously strokes his beard and shrugs his shoulders.  

"I have some wine at my place," he says. "We can open a bottle when we get there." 
"How far is it?" she asks.
"Just up the hill," he says. "Not too far."

She goes to the back to get nachos. She spills hot, melted nacho cheese all over the counter and on her hands. She licks cheese off her hands while reaching for the last remaining hot dog on the grill. It's probably been there for eight or more hours. I'd have been throwing it away soon, recording it as "wasted." Instead, someone wasted is eating it.

She seems to have difficulty opening the little plastic packets of ketchup, mustard and relish. She gets more on the counter than the hotdog and drops the empty packets on the floor. As before, she brings it all up to the counter, leaving a trail of nacho cheese behind her -- like the slime trail of a slug.

As the guy begins swiping his card to pay for it all, she alternates between taking a bite of hotdog and stuffing cheese-covered nachos in her mouth.  Then she grabs a couple sticks of beef jerky from a container near the register, puts them on the counter near the hotdog and nachos and says, with her mouth full, "Get me these, too."

He does.  

"Will that be all?" I ask, as I am about to total it all up.

"NO!" she says, cheese dripping from her mouth. She looks at the guy. "Grab some condoms," she says.

He does.

As they're leaving, she is holding the nachos in one hand, still spilling cheese, and still taking bites of the hotdog from her other hand.

"Well open the door for me!" she tells the guy.

He does.

I clean up her mess.