CRACK KLOCK CRACK KLOCK

Well, that's an overstatement. "Bizarre" would actually be a naked Donald Trump riding through the front window on a polka-dotted pony trying to sell us all ice cream soaked in blood.

This wasn't THAT bizarre.

This lady comes in to the shop all frazzled and shaking.

"I've been in a car wreck," she said. "I forgot my purse at home and I need $40 to pay a tow truck driver. Can anyone help me?"

We all just kinda stared at her like she was a naked Donald Trump on a polka-dotted pony.

I finally spoke.

"GET THEE BEHIND ME, SATAN!!" I bellowed.

...Not really.

"I don't have any cash," I said in all honesty. I use a check card wherever I go.

The rest of them said the same thing.

Even Henry ... the recent lottery winner ... said he had no money on him, which I think is true. According to reports around the store, Henry has already spent his entire winnings.

And wouldn't you know it?

Not ONE single teenage Korean hooker was purchased amongst that windfall of cash.

So the lady leaves the store.

The front of the store is nothing but plate glass windows ... right?

As she's leaving, she flips us all the bird.

And she HOLDS that bird as she strutted to the store next door.

WTF?

It's as if we were SUPPOSED to just automatically give her cash for walking in to the store.

Not five minutes later, two cops walk in and they're looking for this lady.

I figured that her time to get the money for a tow truck driver was up and the cops needed her to move her vehicle.

Nope.

Once again, according to reports from one of the employees next door ... the lady was a crackhead.

There was no car wreck.

She was just looking for money to buy her crack rock and decided that the minimum wage cretins at the tux shop could help a crackhead out.

Well guess what, Cracky?

Uh-uh.

Maybe the people at the sewing center next door will buy ya a nice little fix.

When did panhandling for crack money get so complicated?

I've got a party to do tonight and I still don't know who I'm doing it for.

A lady with a thick German accent called me, wanting to hire me.

First I made it clear that no way would I play for a roomful of Nazis.

She assured me that wasn't the case.

I asked her who the party was for and she said "Klock Klock Glockenspiel Klock".

Or something like that.

I spent two years in Germany and she had me baffled with her mastery of the language.

I asked again and she repeated herself and I still didn't know what she was saying.

I went through my spiel, gave her my price and she was all "Done! You're hired!"

So I know where to go and what time to be there.

But I have no idea what I'm going to be facing when I get there.

For all I know, it could be the local chapter of the Glockenspiel Klockers.

Me, being the DJ God that I am, should be able to adapt to the situation quickly.

Do Glockenspiel Klockers like hip hop?