Thursday, September 8, 2016

If It Weren't For Stupid People, I'd See No People At All

Signs, signs, everywhere are signs...

You learned that song several days ago, didn't you. Didn't you? Because today we have the reprise.

I was tied up with do-gooding for Farmer H's impending visit with The Pony, and I left for town late. It was 2:00 late. The time I'm usually preparing my lunch. Ah...the retired life! Ain't it grand? So off I went, right as the rain slacked up a bit, with my TV and internet still out. My brain cells were clamoring for their daily 44 ounces of Diet Coke.

It was just past the not-yet-flooded low water bridge, beyond the new NO PARKING signs, at the top of the next hill, where I met the tree shaver. You know what that is, right? It's like a big yellow backhoe, with an attachment on the side that mows the limbs off trees. It's like a sideways lawnmower deck. Kind of looks like something you'd hook on for an arm with the old McDonald's Happy Meal toy of Inspector Gadget. Only a lot bigger.

He was driving down the middle of the road, so I pulled way over to where there was no shoulder, just a ditch, and let him come toward me. It's not like I had a deadline to meet. Or that's I'd be late for (snort, snort) WORK! I knew that when he got past the mailbox of that house, he would pull over to his side, because there would be room for his mowing arm. And he did. By that time we had a line backed up, but I left them in the dust. Or what would have been dust, if we weren't on a wet blacktop road.

On to Save A Lot, where all I needed was a box for Farmer H to cart stuff to The Pony. They give them away free, you know! As long as you walk in there and bend over and dig through the assortment up front under the counter for boxing your own groceries. Don't try it on a Saturday or Sunday. They're fresh out. Like at the 1st and 15th of the month, too. The free box thing isn't a very well-kept secret. I found two good ones and left. No need to patronize them. I'll be back there soon enough.

Across the road to Orb K for my  44  40 oz Diet Coke. Their soda is actually cheaper than the gas station chicken store, and comes out of the machine way colder. Just depends on which place has their carbonation at optimum levels over a several-day period. I like to spread my wealth around. Besides, I have really good lottery luck at Orb K. In fact, since I won $160 yesterday, after cashing in some of my previous winners, I took 4 tickets worth a total of $50 in there with the intent of buying more. But stupid people had other ideas.

When I got to the counter with my soda, I saw that the worker was that former student from Newmentia. Not that I have anything against him. It's not like I was there to buy a daily fifth of whisky and case of sponges box of condoms, you know. The woman who usually rings me up, and hands over so many scratch-off winners, was not working the second register, but was running around trying to find something. Which might have been the common sense of the two people ahead of me in line.

First Guy was not buying anything that I could tell. He was a little man, with Little Man Syndrome, giving my Checker Boy a hard time. Checker Boy was calmly explaining, "Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn't. You never know. We've even had people come in here to work on it, and it still does that. It has never worked with a chip. Sorry, Bud." I don't know if that guy wanted to buy something and couldn't (nothing was on the counter) or if he had to pay cash, or if he wanted to prepay for gas. But he was not happy when he left. Even though he should have known that his unhappiness could not make Checker Boy wave a magic wand and restore his ability to use the credit card scanner.

Next Lady had a  44  40 oz just like me! I even think it was Diet Coke, because she was in my way when I was waiting to open the spigot. Right on, Sistah! You rock! Ain't nothin' like The Real (fake) Thing, baby! REEEEE! She asked for SIX PACKS OF CIGARETTES! She was NOT my kindred spirit after all. I'm not pickin' up what she's layin' down. Or what Checker Boy was layin' down for her. I didn't even know you could get cigarettes that cheap! It was $17 for the soda and the smokes. But who am I to judge? That's between her and her lungs.

Next Lady tried to use that card scanner. As you might imagine, she had trouble. Had she not been listening to Checker Boy? Sweet Gummi Mary! She bumbled and fumbled. He leaned his head over and told her, "If it's a debit, you need to push the button that it's a debit, and it might work." It finally did, after more instruction from Checker Boy, who I would never have pegged back at Newmentia as one to enter the teaching field.

MY TURN! I stepped up and placed my magical elixir on the counter. Waved my four scratch-off tickets. "Just the soda today. I'll bring these back another time. You seem kind of busy." You don't have to hit Mrs. Hillbilly Mom over the head with a broken card-scanner to tip her off that this is probably not her lucky day on lottery. I left Checker Boy sighing with relief, ready to attend to the next five people in line.

On the way home, I crossed over that low water bridge and rounded the sharp curve where people run off in the snow. Up the hill, just past the driveway to the house where the brick mailbox holder was bashed, was the tree shaver. Dang! He had not gotten very far at all! He had a sign on his rumpus that said, "Keep Back 500 Feet." So I did. Or at least 50 feet. I WAS in a hurry, now. I had my  44  40 oz Diet Coke whimpering, "Drink me! Drink me!" My stomach was expecting to have lunch before suppertime. And the rain had almost stopped, so I had high hopes for internet. At the top of the hill, a journey which took five minutes, Tree Shaver pulled over so I could pass him. I assumed he could see down over the other side.

I was free! Free as a bird! A retired bird, with lunch and a Diet Coke in her very near future.

Maybe I should go back to my old pal the gas station chicken store every day. In there, the worst thing is guys hollering how they'd like two breasts and two legs, every man's dream.


Sioux said...

Did you see anyone sponge-worthy?

And if two breasts and two legs is every man's dream, what is every woman's dream?

Hillbilly Mom said...

I most certainly did not! That little man was like vegetable lasagna on a transatlantic flight. Every woman's dream? I suppose that would be a sausagefest...except for those women who like chicken.