Just One More Service They Offer

Today I made a run to town for the Save A Lot shopping. Farmer H and The Pony were out on the tractor and the Gator, dragging the gravel road and loading up big rocks. They asked me to bring them Dairy Queen chicken strips for lunch. I agreed. Not because I am kind, but because that meant I didn't have to prepare anything for them.

After picking up my necessities, I decided that why should I have to prepare lunch for myself, either, so I headed to the gas station chicken store. A lady followed me from the light. I say she followed me, but it was more like she was attached to my bumper. I outsmarted her, though, because I got my very special parking place, and she had to park up the hill beside T-Hoe.

She outsmarted me, though, because she got inside before I did. And got in line at the chicken counter ahead of me. And ordered the very last serving of wedge fries. Once she moved into the pay line, I stepped up to look in the case. The guy asked if he could help me, and said not to worry, he had fresh chicken ready to put in the warmer. I told him no, that I had wanted wedge fries, so I thought I'd pass for today. Seriously. Who wants gas station chicken without wedge fries? Oh, but then he said he had just dropped a basket of fries (which means into hot oil, not onto the floor) and they would be done in one minute. So I waited, and also ordered some chicken.

Ha ha! Looks like I outsmarted that lady, because she got the fries that had been in the warmer, and I go the fresh ones. Not really, though, because when I got home, I found out that my chicken was like leather, the worst chicken I ever got there.

But anyhoo...enough about me. Well, not really. But there was something else unusual about this gas station chicken store visit today. While I was in the chicken line, a guy was trying to pump gas, but that pump was broken. The loud happy clerk asked the chicken man if he would run outside for her and tell that guy the pump was broken. He said he'd like to, but he had to get the fries out. So she ran out and told the Pumper while the old fries lady was waiting to pay.

When I got in line with my unbeknownst shoe leather, Pumper was inside ordering chicken. Another guy pulled up at the broken pump. "Oh, no. There's another one. We have to put a sign on there. I'll go tell him."

"Don't worry. I can do that for you," said Pumper. And in a flash, he was out the door and across the lot.

"Okay. But he's deaf," said the loud happy clerk. Out the window, I saw Pumper telling the man the pump didn't work. And telling him again. And getting right up beside him. Then Pumper came back inside, followed by the elderly pumper.

"It's broken," said the loud happy clerk, while also signing. "Sorry."

The elderly pumper thanked her in sign, and headed out. "Thanks anyway. I tried to tell you he was deaf."

Pumper looked at me. "She's so loud a deaf man could hear her!"

Who knew that the gas station chicken store could provide such a valuable service? Not Mrs. Hillbilly Mom, that's for sure.