The best thing ever

Once upon a time, I worked at a coffee shop that was smack dab in the middle of three homeless shelters. It was the bum Bermuda Triangle, basically. I worked 10 hour shifts and the money I made barely covered my parking tickets. From, you know, where I parked my car during the shift. 

Anyway, one of my many duties, aside from making lukewarm drinks with spoiled milk, was stocking our beverage cooler. We sold cans of pop, juices, whatever. The cans of pop were the most popular among our "clientele" because they were only a dollar. So anyway, one day I am stocking the cooler and I drop this one can of Coke, like, seven times. I am not kidding. That can was so bloated and full of fizz by the time I got it to the cooler, I was surprised it hadn't exploded. I shoved it in the back and went back to work sweeping the carpet. Because we didn't have a vacuum.

Flash forward to 4:45 PM, the end of my shift. Bums and students are filtering in like crazy and without me realizing it, I sell this one particularly insane bum that bloated, dented can of Coke. 

He goes over and sits down on one of our diseased arm chairs and starts making fun of my boyfriend (now husband) about wanting to have sex with furniture. I don't really know where this insult came from and neither does he. 

My boyfriend (now husband) is about to tell this guy to go back to his crawlspace when he opens that abused can of Coke. Which, amazingly, perfectly, shoots out of the can and hits him directly in the eye. 

In that moment, everything in my shitty life made sense. I knew without a doubt that, eventually, everything would be okay. And it wasn't - not for a long time. But it is now.

And I gave the guy a free Sprite for his troubles.