The Accent

As the line moved forward, the girl stared blankly
at the candy selection. Wriggley's, Juicy Juice, M & M's,
Reese's Peanut Butter Cups...the usual blur of colors and namebrands. "That'll be twenty-two dollars and three cents." As the lady in front of her fumbled around in her
oversized purse for change, the girl began placing her items on the counter. Seventeen's Fall Fashion Issue!...Julia Roberts:
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"Eight cents is your change. Have a nice day." "Hi, how are you." The cashier began scanning
her items. "Hullo," the girl answered. "Oh, those wuh three
foh a dolluh..." The cashier smirked. "Those WUH thwee foh a DOLLUH!"
he mimicked in a high pitched voice. A woman next to him giggled. Her name badge said:
Manager Judy Johnson. The girl's grip on her wallet froze, and she stared
at the cash register as she felt her cheeks burn. "That will be FOAH DOLLUH and THAHTY cent!" the cashier
continued in his high-pitched voice. "Ching chong
ching chong ching!" he added, his eyes penetrating hers. The girl paid and quietly grabbed her bag, not daring to
open her mouth. She noticed that the woman manager was hardly
obscuring her laughter. "Thank you veh-dee much," the cashier drawled nastily.
He put his hands together, elbows sticking out, and bowed.
The manager broke into more uncontrollable guffaws. The girl turned on her heel and left the store without
looking back. --Tigergem