Mindfucking Muffins...

Y'all know that guy from The Simpsons who runs the military supplies/army surplus store?
Yeah. Okay picture him in your head.
That done, make him have a one-sided conversation with you.
Okay. Done that? Ready for this?

This guy came into the cafeteria where I work today, and swear to God, did exactly that. Except every second word was fuck, in either as a noun, exclaimation, or a descriptive verb, such as "fucking *blank*." He bought a coffee, and as he took his own sweet time paying, he asked me repeatedly who was in charge or who owned or operated this place (I said she's be back in 15) and complaining that he'd never seen a worse facility, that he'd seen better in Mexico (a generalization meant to say that Mexico is a dirty place, and we, as Canadians, shouldn't even be on par with them, much less below them in standards.) Now Jackie and I happen to both love Mexico, and resent this assumption. (Jackie's grandparents live there, for crying out loud! Dirty, rat-infested, drug-smuggling, don't-drink-the-water Mexico is not a place where one allows their grandparents to live. Smog problems in the cities and myriad tourist traps along the coast aside, it seems an enjoyable place.)
But back to the carnival.
So he's saying all of this in a soft, stilted patter of words, mumbling a little, as if he were shyly trying to ask me if that is the correct time? I had to strain to catch his words. But caught thenm I did. It was scarier than most things I've witnessed. There was this guy earlier in the day who, because I made a mistake and was going to have to ring in his muffin seperately from his coffee and then the Visa machine took forever to work, walked off without paying for a muffin and I didn't say anything because he was too fast and I was too scared. The guys behind him in line, said, as a JOKE, "oh it's free then," and he's just like "yes, that's right. It's free."

What I should have said: "Pay up for the muffin, asswad. I don't get paid enough to take shit from you. Nowhere in company policy does it state that YOU or anyone gets a free muffin because the cashier has had a bit of a rough five minutes."
What I DID say: *fusses with the paper roll and punches agitatedly at the Visa machine, fighting the urge to stab herself in the face with the pen.*

But the Swearer...
I thought maybe he had Tourette's...I meant, I know several people with Tourette's, and coprolalia is hardly something I can hold against someone if it's involuntary. His quiet rage was so very violent, yet restrained, and he was dressed like some creepy ax-murderer in a tight t-shirt tucked into baggy cargo parachute pants and with his head shaved completely bald.
The fact that he looked a little like my quite recent ex-boss DID occur to me...
I couldn't remember the last time I came across someone who dressed in such an odd way (on paper it's looks normal, in real life it was another experience entirely,) so my first thoughts were along the lines of hoping that his aid would come running up any moment, apologizing profusely and hauling him off as he continued to spout off obsceneties.
Because, harsh as it sounds, my first reaction was that this guy was obviously pulling for Team Canada in the Special Olympics, because buddy obviously can't seem to dress himself and he's talking like he just spent 6 months in electro-shock therapy. (Which someone I know recently went through. Seriously. It fucks your mind more than I or Jackie ever could.)
Or that maybe he was one of those dead-pan jokey-types who like to get the waitresses all riled up or scared then laugh and say, "just kidding," as you stand, sweat streaming from every pore, praying and hoping against all hope that your manager doesn't come in just then.

But no. He finished his diatribe and walked off, and I just stood there, because beyond telling him the correct amount or the change or reading back his order, I didn't open my mouth once. This was late in the day, and I was crashing down from my Coca-Cola high from earlier, so I was operating on auto-mode, in a semi-catatonic state where everything was by rote.
Me and the prep cook had a nice little laugh over it later on, because as a very wise woman once said to me: "[You] don't get paid enough to live by the rules of 'the customer is always right.'"

Special Olympics Headliner WHo Actually Has No Diagnosed Mental Disability------> Gunned Down! Muffin-Stealers----------> Made to Pay for The Muffin They Stole, Then Gunned Down!