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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.
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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
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