Spiderfreak

Question: When bitten by a brown recluse spider, what should you do?
A. Go to the emergency room and hope they can save your limb, or
B. Walk around Hellmart with a festering wound attempting to steal CDs and money.
For one brilliant bastard I encountered this evening, his choice was B.

The level of stupidity some individuals are able to achieve continues to astound me. This particular creature sauntered up to the pharmacy counter fairly late in the evening, and I could tell right away that he was not someone I wanted to interact with. We will henceforth lovingly refer to him as "Spiderfreak". He was portly, with slimy, curly blond hair and a vacant expression. He was wearing a t-shirt with the sides cut open to reveal his heaving gut, and his odor was less than appealing.
"I need help with a spider bite on my leg," Spiderfreak drawled, so the pharmacist and I stepped out to take a look.

Upon first glance, it was quite obvious that this fucker had been bitten by a brown recluse spider, which is serious business. They're brown. They're reclusive. And their venom causes flesh to rot, often leading to massive craters and sometimes even removal of limbs. Spiderfreak's wound was large, deep, and still quite bloody, with puffy, swollen skin starting to cover his entire calf.

"You should probably go the emergency room, like, NOW," I say, incredulous that I even have to propose this idea to him.
"I went to the hospital and I'm on antibiotics," he drawls, making sure to glance at my chest for just a little too long as I stand back up.
BULL SHIT. I guarantee any self-respecting hospital would wrap the wound in gauze and not allow him to walk around letting it fester. But clearly this creature lacks any form of rational common sense - instead of taking our advice to clean the wound with hydrogen peroxide, he leaves without buying anything.

Ten minutes later, we are informed that Spiderfreak actually attempted to steal some merchandise and swindle money from people working at the service desk. This is when it dawns on me: I've interacted with this vermin before!

One afternoon over the summer, I was working at the front desk when the infamous Spiderfreak approached. He heaved his meaty arms up over the counter and said in a dull voice, "Umm, I just put a twenty in the vending machine and it won't give it back. I need a refund."
Now, it's not uncommon for customers to receive a refund for up to $2. However, I, unlike Spiderfreak, am not an idiot.

"There are a couple things wrong with your allegation," I say, "with probably the most important being that no vending machine, except perhaps ones dispensing iPods, will accept a twenty dollar bill."

"Oh. Uhh..." Spiderfreak is silent for a moment. Then he leans in closer. "Look. I need to get to Indianapolis tonight. Can I just have a ten instead?"
I regard him incredulously for a moment, thinking surely he must be joking, but those beady little eyes are serious.
"I can't just reach into my drawer and hand you money," I explain as condescendingly as I can, then whisper, "That kind of defeats the purpose of a retail store."
He glares for a moment before turning stalking out the door. 

Spiderfreak attempted this several more times with different employees, each time to no avail. One might think his recent spider bite could give him superhuman thievery skills, or even just above-average intelligence, but the CDs he failed to steal today say otherwise.