When I got to town on Saturday, the rain started to fall more heavily than I judged necessary! It had been a mere mist when I left home, yet NOW, when I wanted to walk from my rightful handicap space into the Gas Station Chicken Store, I was going to get wet. I ducked my head and plodded on.
At least I was the only customer inside. Fave was bemoaning the weather.
"I know! I don't mind the gloominess. I kind of like it. But I hate to get wet!"
"You ARE really wet." Said Fave, as she took my winners and swiped them across her ample bosom, covered by her employee apron. "So are your tickets!"
"Well, I'm an old lady. I walk slow. And it's pouring!"
"I'm just so bored. Nobody's coming in. The time goes slower."
I bought my tickets, chatted few minutes, and started for the door, grasping them in my hand as usual.
"I'd put them tickets in my titties!" advised Fave. "So they won't get wet, and you can still scratch them."
"You know, I think I WILL!" I stuffed the tickets under my jacket, shirt, bra strap. "That's a good idea."
They stayed nice and dry. Can't say the same for the rest of me. But my tickets were fine. In hindsight, there was such a lack of business that I might as well have parked under the roof. No cars were waiting for those gas pumps.
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