LogFAQs > #930763564

"Not sure on that one," he scratches his head. "We found him in the dumpster out back and we wasn't sure if he had the poison in him. Months go by and eventually this ol' boy bites my niece Tiffany. We hadda put him in this penalty cage for misbehavin'."
"Ain't that just a gator in the garage," you shake your head before spitting onto Craig's floor.
"Mmhmm, exactly," he claps you on the back. "But at least we was gonna figure out if he poisonous or not, right? Wrong. Not twenty minutes after we put this boy in this tank, Tiffany gets slammed by a go-cart out in that parking lot right there. Now she didn't die right away, mind you. But she did die after fallin' out of the emergency go-cart on the way to the hospital," he chuckles for some reason.
"That's a lot to take in," you nervously join in on the laughter.
Craig cocks his head to the right. "Over here now." He leads you to the other side of the store. "This here's a muffler. Makes your car or truck real quiet kinda.... Back over here now."

Craig leads you to a fishtank that's filled to the brim. Floating motionlessly at the top is a long furry animal. "Here we got ourselves a watuh ferret," he informs you.
"Oooooh," you unsuccessfully try to hide your uneasiness. "I didn't know water ferrets were a thing."
"They sure is, they sure is," Craig nods happily.
"He's not swimming much," you point out.
"Well yeah, he's sleepin' right now," he retorts.
"How long has he been sleeping for?"
"Pfft... long time. He's hibernatin'."
"Do animals need to hibernate in Florida?" you ask.
"Y'know, I asked myself the same question," Craig admits. "But I figure I'll leave that up to him, you know? He's still new at this, he figuring it out, know what I'm sayin'? Plus if he don't hibernate, how he gonna emerge from the watuh as a big, beautiful otter?"
You turn your back to the drowned ferret. "What's over there?" you point back to the auto supplies.
Craig brings you over to a muffler completely covered in rust. "Yup, it's another muffler," he says triumphantly.
"It's a little rusty, Craig."
"Hey hey hey, it may be rusty but it still muffs real good," he argues. "But you can buy this rusty metal anytime. I got a daily special for you over here," Craig announces as he pulls you against your will back to the animals.
You approach a closed tank with a sticker that says "$50!" taped to the front of it. As you grow closer to the tank, you can hear louder and louder buzzing. Craig cups his hands and leans towards your ear. "It's just a whole lotta bees," he whispers.
"I don't think I have room for this in my apartment," you feign disappointment.
"Say no more," Craig drags you back to a muffler that has plastic caps inserted into the openings and a familiar buzzing. "It's just a whole lotta bees," he repeats.
"It sure is," you nod halfheartedly. "Can you give me a second, Craig?"
"Absolutely, you take all the time you need. I'll be waitin' 'round the counter when you decide on which bees you want," he tells you.

You reach into your plastic bag and start scanning through the papers for Craig Dump. There's gotta be a reason you're here. Your finger scrolls alphabetically from Donnolly to Donovan and right on through to Duncan. None of these prayers are from Dump. You sigh. "You really are out here living your best life, aren't you?"
"Sure am," Craig pops a strap of his overalls against his shoulder. "And that's a completely normal thing for someone to say after lookin' through a bunch of papers for several minutes."
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You don't have to put my thighs in the microwave.