It just may be a lunatic you are looking for

It takes a unique kind of crazy to want to work for me, a delicate mix of artisan and outlaw, if you will. My crew at the Abbey are each a bit crazy in their own fantastic way. Case in point, yesterday afternoon as we made our way through the massive pile of hemp that needed to become orders that day, Coffee Bitch (our resident barista) made with our afternoon caffeine fix.

Normally I, being the boss and all that, get the first cup poured. However this was not the case. No, first cup went to my shop manager, Lam the Wonder Dyke.
I jokingly shoot Lam one of my trademark scowls and she responds with a laugh, “Oh CB is just kissing my ass cuz she does not want to whip the rest of that natural today”
“But first cup? Damn, that’s like using her tongue.” I fire back
At this point my other crew member, the one we have all dubbed “The Prettiest Ghetto Pony” (or PGP for short), pipes up from where he was working quietly on sample kits and out of the blue delivers, in the most innocent of voices:

“You mean she was tongue punching you in the brown star?”

Lam and I stop dead in our tracks, turn to look at each other to just make sure we both just heard what we thought we heard.
Monk, “That was the most ..”
Lam “… fucked up…”
Monk “…wrong and yet so ..”
In unison, “BRILLIANT!”


PGP just smiles, shrugs his shoulders and goes back to work while the rest of us stare, jaws agape.

Yep, these would be my peoples.