Creepypasta #1622: No Skin, No Service
TRIGGER WARNING: SELF-HARM, GORE
We call them ‘Peelers’. Some of them are return customers, while others only come in the one time and leave in tears, streaking blood across the diner floor. What they do is called ‘peeling’, and it’s the new dumb fad kids are into nowadays. I’d rather see them choke on snorted condoms than peeling in our bathroom stalls, because at least the condoms don’t make a bloody mess.
From what I hear, peeling isn’t really a self-harm kind of thing like cutting is, it’s more of a rite of passage, the way some kids challenge each other to see who can hold their palm over an open flame the longest. In the case of peeling, instead of a flame, they use a potato peeler and see who can peel off the longest chunk of skin in a single curl. The whole thing is so dumb on so many levels.
I can usually tell when a group is about to do it. They shoot each other this conspiratorial look over the tops of the menu they hide behind and, one by one, sneak into the bathroom when they think no one’s looking. It’s usually guys, but some girls do it too. I try to stop them when I can, but I’m not a babysitter, and I’ve got paying customers to serve, so I can’t always get involved in their dumb dick measuring contest.
I was concerned back when they first started peeling a few weeks ago, but I quickly realized most kids can’t handle the pain. They usually only manage to cut a small sliver – about the size you’d scrape off by accidentally slashing yourself with your thumbnail – but, I’ve seen a guy run out of the bathroom with blood-soaked napkins from his wrist to halfway up his forearm. I guess some people handle the pain better than others.
The manager joked about putting up a ‘No Skin, No Service’ sign in the window, but that’d be about as good a deterrent as candy wrappers on a dick.
I thought I’d become desensitized to the whole thing, more annoyed than concerned, but last night, the sick practice was taken to a whole other level. If I seem nonchalant now, it’s not because I’m desensitized: it’s because I’m probably still in shock.
It had been a busy night at the diner, and as a result, I’d not been as vigilant as I could have been. I was running from table to table, dealing with drunks and kids from the high school across the street coming in for a post end-of-year-dance snack. It felt like half the student body came through our door that night, and by closing time, I was so exhausted and eager to get home, I forgot to lock the door before I flipped the ‘Open’ sign over to the ‘Closed’ side.
I was in the back sweeping the floor when I heard the chime of the bell above the door. By the time I got to the front of the diner, there was no one there. I figured whoever had opened the door saw the place was empty and the lights were dimmed, and so they’d walked back out in search of a fast food place. It never occurred to me to check the bathrooms.
I locked the front door and went back to sweeping, telling the chef it was nothing.
