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“Let’s go!” one of them yells, and they all take off like it’s a coordinated withdrawal. What the fuck, this isn’t Lululemon!
Jaxx isn’t done, though, because they’re stealing our merchandise, running away with it held high in the air like phallic trophies. She gives chase, taking the direct route and stomping up onto a chair, table, and then another chair to get down on the other side, her boots clomping loudly with each step.
“Give those back! If you want to fuck yourself in the ass, you gotta buy one like everyone else, Chad!” she screams after them.
We both try our best, but the guys get away with our products.
“What the fuck was that?” Jaxx snaps at no one in particular.
“Assholes, that’s what,” I answer angrily.
We make our way back to the table, which is in shambles. I pick up tissue paper, trying to stack it into some semblance of order to distract myself from the stupidity that just took place.
“Son of a bitch!” Jaxx hisses.
“What?”
“They took stuff from the supply bins too. Look.” I follow where she’s pointing and see the totes that we stashed under the table have been opened and rummaged through.
"No! How much?”
Jaxx purchased all the merchandise in those bins, and we have to sell it to make a profit. If it’s stolen, we lose the money. It just poofs into thin air, leaving us in the red.
“I’ll have to do an inventory, compare what I bought with what we sold, but...” She looks up at me, and even with her heavily made-up eyes, I can see pure fear in them. “I think it’s a lot. A thousand at least, maybe more?”
My stomach flip flops in my gut. I just got the bonus money, paid some bills, and banked a little, and now this? All because some Chad-bros thought they’d be funny.
“We need to call campus security,” I say, and Jaxx nods.
* * *
“So let me get this straight,” the campus security officer says slowly. He’s tall, rail thin, and too baby-faced for me to comfortably talk about sex toys with. He looks like he’s not even old enough to have graduated college himself yet, let alone be security at one.
Although, that also might have to do with the fact that he’s grinning like this is some sort of joke as he manhandles what’s left on the table of our merchandise. “Some guys grabbed your winkie-dinkies and bolted for the door?”
A snort comes from nearby, and Jaxx and I simultaneously turn a glare on the officer’s partner, a big, burly man who’s Officer Friendly’s exact opposite, with ruddy red cheeks who looks like he’s two steps from the grave. At our matching glares, he schools his face into an empathetic frown and clears his throat, standing at what I’m guessing is his version of attention—rocking back on his heels and placing his hands on his impressive paunch.
We expected them to laugh at the incident at first. I mean, I get it... stolen dildos isn’t exactly the most common report. I figured they’d get their jollies off and then actually help. But that’s not what’s happening at all.
Officers Pork and Beans can’t get over their juvenile reactions long enough to actually do their jobs, and we’re losing our patience.
“Yes!” we both snap in unison, turning our eyes back to the taller officer.
“That’s exactly what we’re saying,” Jaxx snarls. “Which you would've heard if you weren’t so busy laughing like a juvenile boy who heard the word vagina for the first time.”
The tall officer narrows his eyes, not happy at the insult. “And just what exactly are you doing with that many of these, uh,products?” Rather than seeming like an attempt at professionalism, his tone makes our party goods seem even dirtier.
“Does that matter?” Jaxx snaps. “Who gives a crap why? It was our property and it was stolen. It doesn’t matter if we’re selling them, giving them away, or doing dick drawing classes with them. Mine!” She slams her palm to her chest and then does running fingers through the air. “Someone took.” She finishes her dramatic and caveman-esque interpretation of the last fifteen minutes by drawing a finger down her cheek to indicate that she’s sad about this whole thing.
“Actually, it could matter,” the older officer says. “Y’all get approval to be selling this stuff on campus? I don’t reckon administration would be too keen about all this... devilment.” There’s a threat woven into his assessment that I don’t like.
“Are you kidding me?” I demand. “Everyone on campus is over eighteen. We’re not doing anything wrong.”
“Isn’t there a law against having so many of these?” the tall officer asks, though it sounds like he knows the answer. But he’s escalating—first, suggesting campus admin would have a problem, and now, the police.
“Nah, that’s only in Texas,” his partner says. “Can’t have more than six there. Too bad that’s not the case here, even though six still seems like too many if you ask me.” He trails off, looking at the spread on the table like he wishes the restrictive law were in place here.
“If you’re not going to do a damn thing, you can go,” Jaxx tells them. Her arms are crossed over her chest in anger, but she manages to wave at them, telling them to shoo.
