You scare us.
The first time it happened, we kind of blew it off. "What can I get you, young man?" you asked innocently enough. You then proceeded to call us "Young Man" six or seven times in the span of seconds.
It creeped us out.
And then today with the Young Man. Again. Several times. Creeped out. Sure we took our Italian hoagie and ate that sh*t for lunch, but we were hungry for, well, uh, hoagie. A real hoagie. On a roll. With lettuce and onion and extra tomatoes.
Point is, please don’t call us Young Man anymore. We’re old and cynical, and more than a li'l scared you want to play coochie-coochie-coo with our sack. What's that? Well, Jesus. There's no other way to put it, really.
Old Man Snap. Not Young Man Touch. Got it? Good.
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