A Troika Of Rumpusholes

Never a dull moment in Hillmomba. Especially when it comes to The Wronging of Mrs. Hillbilly Mom. She's a virtual Rodney Dangerfield. She don't get no respect.

I rolled onto the parking lot of the Gas Station Chicken Store on Thursday, ready to park in my rightful handicap space. Well! The Universe thought otherwise. A car was already there. No plates nor placard to verify their worthiness.

I pulled in and parked in the space by the FREE AIR hose. It was a chilly, windy day, and my knees were aching. I did not feel like walking the extra steps around that entitled vehicle. So I sat in T-Hoe until the driver came out. I made sure to give him the stinkeye. I regret not twirling my handicap placard. It was in full display, though. That 30-something able-bodied guy backed up and left. I doubt he felt guilty.

Once I pulled forward and parked, I hobbled inside. A fidgety man was fiddling about at the draw ticket stand, filling in bubbles on his draw ticket that he wanted to submit. I've seen him there before. As I got in line, he went down the aisle to the back of the store. As I waited for three customers ahead of me to complete their transactions, Fidgety got in line behind me. 

Well! The guy directly ahead of me was trying to buy a fountain soda. It was $1.89. He started to put his card in the portable scanner, and my favorite clerk said, "It's a $3 minimum." The guy slapped at his pockets. Acted discombobulated. I was about to pull two ones out of my shirt pocket to pay for him, when Fidgety said, "I got it brother. Go ahead."

With that, Fidgety stepped in front of me, and told Fave that he wanted some draw tickets, specifically the CASH POP version. He also told her he had been winning big lately. He gave her the form he had filled out to choose the numbers for his tickets. Then he paid with a card. As an afterthought, he turned to me and said, 

"Oh, I didn't mean to jump line. But I figured you had more lottery than me."

What a rumpushole! I had two tickets in my hand! Of course I couldn't let his transgression go without comment.

"If I knew it would make me next, I would have paid for that guy's soda!"

Seriously. I was already next. Until this Fidgety rumpushole elbowed his way around me. When he left, I told Fave,

"That's not good karma. His winning streak is about to end!"

Heh, heh! My winners later totaled $100. So who's sorry now?

Back in T-Hoe, I was writing on the back of my scratchers when a white sedan pulled up next to my driver's door. NOT in a parking space, I might add. In the driving lane between the handicap space and the diesel pumps. Good thing I was back in, not trying to open my door to get out.

A woman got out of the white sedan, walked in front of T-Hoe, and stood beside the metal cabinet that houses the propane tanks. Then she LIT UP A CIGARETTE! I'm pretty sure that is not recommended near a stack of propane tanks. What in the Not-Heaven? That gal could have parked in the FREE AIR space behind me. And waited in her sedan for Fave to get a minute to come out and give her a propane tank.

The world is full of rumpusholes, and they are magnetically attracted to Mrs. HM.