I had a couple of young guys shopping with me once and we were enjoying each other’s company. Sometimes customers think some of the things I say are funny but these guys were laughing their heads off. They selected their purchases so we went to the payment stand. I’m a realist and know that I have aged into an Orville Redenbacher look alike. Had I been asked for my opinion that’s not a road I would have chosen to travel but, it is what it is and it’s my cross to bear. These two young gentlemen were dressed in a way I would describe as kinda gangsta. Their pants were hanging really low with boxers that were pulled up very high. Not my fashion choice but it fit them. We continued to joke around while they paid for their purchases and, when we finished, I gave them their packages and thanked them for shopping with me. Instead of walking away, one of the guys gave me a scrap piece of paper with a street address on it and asked me what time I got off work. I found the question kind of strange because they were strangers so I asked why they wanted to know. The guy who gave me the address said: “Hey man, we want you to come by our place when you get off work and smoke some weed with us, we bet you’re really funny when you’re high.” I took the invitation as a compliment because how often do a couple of gangsta dudes invite an Orville Redenbach over to their place – to smoke weed. However, my momma was a smart lady who counselled us kids to never go over to a strangers house to break a law – stay in the comfort of your own home. I had no intention of accepting their invitation (unless I got to know them better) but I didn’t want to hurt their feelings or offend them. So I told the guys that I thought I remembered smoking weed when I was much younger and all I could remember about the experience was that it made me really, really hot. So hot, in fact, that I had to take all my clothes off. I explained that back then it was really pretty but, having a lot of bumps and bruises since then, I would really not want them to see me naked. I followed up that I live on a high floor and that if I get hot like that, I can go out on my balcony naked, catch a breeze to cool me down and no one can see me. I explained that if they didn’t have a balcony, I’d probably be out on their front porch. I said that I didn’t know about their neighborhood but in my neighborhood, if an old white dude came out on the front porch naked, somebody would probably call the cops. If that happened, what would happen to their weed party. The invitation was quietly forgotten but the two guys gave me a gangsta name which is K-Dog. That’s what they called me whenever they came by to visit and it was used by several people including my boss. When I was on the sales floor trolling for customers he would tell people K-Dog was on patrol.