"I have 8 orders here," the man said unpleasantly, rolling up to my register with a cart load of canned goods. "There's a 12 can limit, right?"
"Yes," I replied.
"Well, I'll pay for them all separately then," he said picking up some of the cans. He glared at the conveyer belt. "That thing is filthy," He said. "I don't want any of my groceries to touch it." He began handing me the cans, one by one.
I tried to act as though he wasn't completely insane, and began ringing them up as he handed them to me, setting them on the counter for the courtesy, who was outside doing a drive up.
"You bag those as you ring them up," the man ordered. "Don't put anything on the counter."
"Ok," I said as pleasantly as possible, and began slowly going through his orders, bagging as I went. About halfway through, the courtesy returned and asked me to start sending down the groceries.
"You hand them to him!" the man ordered. Your counter is disgusting! I don't want any germs on my groceries! It's obvious you never clean anything here."
I gave the courtesy a look, and he rolled his eyes in response. We finished the orders and the man left, mumbling about how disgusting everything was. I told the story to my manager who told me that the man was a regular, and he did the same thing every time he was in.
A week later he was back. This time with a cartload of cheese, which, again, was supposed to be sold in limited quantities. Once again he had me ring him up multiple transactions, and once again he ranted and raved about how filthy the counters were and how none of his groceries had better touch them. I breathed a sigh of relief when he was gone at last.
That night, as the man lay sleeping inside a giant plastic bubble, a noise broke through his dreams.
"No!" He called out in his sleep, "Not the moist sponge!"
*THUMP! THUD! THUMP!*
"What?!" The man sat bolt upright in his bubble.
A tiny fairy, dressed in dirty rags, hovering with tattered bat wings, was banging on his bubble with a dirty toilet plunger.
"Stop touching my bubble!" the man yelled. "You're filthy!"
"My name is Grungetta," she replied. "I'm a dirt fairy, and I'm here to touch everything you own."
"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!!" the man cried, but it was too late.
Grungetta flitted around his house sprinkling glittery dirt clods everywhere, and touching all his food. The man tried to chase her, but he was stuck in his bubble and kept bumping into stuff, and bouncing off everything. At last his bubble rolled down the stairs, crashed into his ex-wife's knitting needle collection, and exploded. The man leapt to his feet, grabbed a flyswatter, and rushed at the fairy, intending to squish her.
Grungetta dodged the swatter and pulled out a silver whistle blowing a single shrill note. The door burst open, and an enormous herd of teacup piglets flooded into the house, trampling the man. The piglets, grunting adorably, ran all around the house, leaving muddy tracks everywhere, and just as soon as they had appeared, they were gone. Grungetta stuck her tongue out at the man, made a rude noise, and disappeared in a puff of dirt.
The man looked in horror at the filth that surrounded him, and ran screaming from his home. The last anyone saw of him, he was running fully clothed through the car wash for the eleventh time, gargling window cleaner, and scrubbing himself with a squeegee.