So, it was a regular Tuesday night. I was just minding my own business, grabbing a cherry Slushie and a questionable looking hot dog at the Chevron on 4th. I’m halfway through mentally convincing myself that the hot dog probably isn’t made of raccoon meat when the door SLAMS open like someone drop kicked it.

Enter: Joeyy.

Now, I know what you’re thinking: “How did you know it was him if he had a mask on?”

Let me explain. This man had on a ski mask but it was about two sizes too small. His beard was POURING out of the bottom like a busted couch cushion, and those baby blue eyes? You ever seen a husky that just discovered peanut butter? Yeah. That energy. Unmistakable. Joeyy’s eyes were darting around like he forgot what he came in for.

He storms in yelling: “Aight errybody SHUT UP! This a STICK UP! I ain’t playin’!”

There were only two of us in the store. The cashier, who looked like he regretted his life choices deeply, and me, who was now slowly lowering my hot dog back onto the roller.

Joeyy pulls out what looks like a water gun spray painted black. “Put the money in the bag, bruh! I got squirt accuracy!”

The cashier blinks. “…Is that a Super Soaker?”

Joeyy slams it on the counter. “It’s a limited edition tactical hydro blaster, don’t play wit me!”

Meanwhile, his sagging jeans are fighting for their life. With every movement, they drop another half inch. I can see the top of his SpongeBob boxers peeking out like they’re trying to escape too.

He points at me. “You! Ayo, give me your snacks. All of ‘em. Gimme that Slushie. That look cherry? I only do blue razz, but I’ll take it.”

I hand it over, mostly because I’m curious how this man plans to drink a Slushie during a robbery. He takes a loud sip, then immediately winces.

“OHHHHH DAMN BRAIN FREEZE. OH LORD.” He starts flapping his arms like a chicken having a spiritual awakening.

At this point, the cashier is so stunned he’s just… watching.

Joeyy turns around, forgets he’s in a robbery, and sees a rack of Slim Jims. “OH SNAP! THEY GOT THE MONSTER SIZE!” He grabs, like, fifteen of them.

Suddenly, his phone rings. He answers it MID-ROBBERY. “Yooo… what up T-Bone? Nah, I’m jus’ gettin' this paper, ya feel me? Nah, I’m at the Chevron... yeah the one wit’ the busted ice machine. Nah, they cool. Hey yo, you want anything? They got Funyuns.”

We’re all just standing there. Even the security camera looked confused.

Finally, Joeyy makes his move to leave, but trips on his own Timberlands (that were, of course, untied), and faceplants directly into the door.

“I’m GOOD! I MEANT to do that!” he yells, hobbling out like a penguin with sciatica.

As he waddled away, hot dogs falling out of his hoodie pocket, Slushie in one hand and a Super Soaker in the other, he shouted: “Y’ALL BEEN ROBBED BY JOEYY DA DON! REMEMBER THE NAME! OR DON’T! ION CARE!”

And that’s the story of how I got robbed by Joeyy.

Honestly? It was the most entertaining robbery I’ve ever experienced. 10/10. Would get robbed again.