The Man, The Legend, The Yarp.
These stories entail a particular customer of our humble game store, who works over in the McDonald's across the street.

THE INTRODUCTIONS:
This customer liked me. If he walked past the store and saw me inside, he would barge into the store, wave at me (from a distance of ten feet) and shout HELLO. I noticed he existed, and became his "friend". Out of his earshot, I gave him the nickname "Yarp" due to his striking (mental) resemblance to "Lurch" from Hot Fuzz.

THE FIRST INSULT AIMED AT HIS FACE:
Yarp walks up to the counter and holds a game in his hand. "Is this good?"
Without missing a beat and keeping eye contact and a smile on my face, I retort, "No, that's a bad choice for you. You're holding a game that involves thinking."

THE SECOND INSULT TO HIS FACE:
Yarp blathered on about something that resulted in my equal and opposite reaction of sarcastic excitement, with wild head bobbing. A real case of the uh-huhs and mm-hmms. He didn't catch onto this and I eventually gave up and said to him, "I'm sorry, but right now intellectual osmosis* is occuring; I'm going to go take my lunch break now."
"Okay. Can I come?"
"For the sake of future generations, I hope not."

THE UNFAIR INSULT OUT OF NOWHERE:
One day, Yarp walks into the store and I was having a bad day, and just seeing him sent me over the edge, and I said at a voice level that showed I was apathetic if he was in or out of earshot: "Why the hell haven't they turned him into twenty chicken nuggets yet? He'd serve a better purpose that way."

He figured that one out later, I was told. It broke his heart a little bit. I was the winner.

*Original source: Acts of Gord.
(Master Kazoo é?, Sat 6 Oct 2007, 9:54, Reply)