Several years ago, I worked at a shady Gas Station in Minneapolis for three months before moving to Chicago. In that time, I encountered a lot of whacked out shit that I've yet to forget:
On my first day, a short black man in wind breakers wearing an over sized "Jesus Kicks Butt" hat entered the store. Immediately, he points to me.
"Jesus! I see Jesus in yo eyes, son!" he shouts, walking over to the donut stand.
With his eyes still on me, he continued showering my ego with comparisons to the Holy Trinity while filling a plastic bag with crispy cremes and bismarks.
"The Father, the Son, the HOLY spirit! THAT'S...what I see in YOU!"
Though I'm not at all religious, I couldn't help but crack a smile, flattered by this mans charisma. And as soon as his bag was completely stuffed, he walked up to my register, he and I now face to face. For a moment, the bullet proof glass in between us felt like it temporarily dissolved as he had my complete attention.
"...You keep up that smile, son...you KEEP up that Jesus!"
I nodded back to him with a laugh as he speedily exited the store with his donuts, then realizing he never paid for them.