Are Those Your Underwear?

So, I just got off work, scored superb parking on my street right in front of my corner store, Third World Market, and went in for the usual mega-deal on two bottles of Barefoot wine for 12 bones. I decided on the red labeled Zin and the orange Syrah and went up to the counter to pay. The owners are from Palestine, and I see them pretty much everyday - so I said hi to Frank and went up to the counter to pay the other guy that is always at the counter talking on the phone. He starts ringing me up and this black dude decked out in Giants gear was all up on my shit. He hit me with all the lines, like how he has a "telephonic apparatus that he would like to put my number in." He said he would like to drink the wine with me and "entertain" me and that he hoped the next time I could "entertain him." I politely shunned him off, with a smile and a, "sorry man, that's not gonna happen." He was all optimistic going on about how he believes in chance and that he was sure fate was on his side and he would run into me again. I got a bit flustered with all these compliments (however degrading they may have been intended) and picked up the plastic bag with the wine in it too quickly, and the Zin rolled down the ice cream case almost breaking all over the store. My reflexed pulled through, and I caught it and homeboy made sure my shit got double-bagged - which I tried to decline. Anyways, long story short, he was telling me to have a good night and not to drink and drive when I went to grab the double-bagged wine again and noticed a plaid pair of boxer-shorts lying on the glass counter in front of me. I looked up surprised, and was like, "are those your underwear?" He said yes without even blushing. The whole store busted up laughing. I walked out of the store thinking to myself, "this wine is gonna be real good."