Mrs. HM's Mouth Is Writing Checks Her Ample Rumpus Is Loathe To Cash

Sweet Gummi Mary! Must my life be so fraught with drama? A simple trip to town can turn deadly in an instant! These convenience store line-jumpers are out of control!

Saturday, I went to the main post office to mail the DISH bill that got here with possible time to mail back by the 25th. I stopped at the School-Turn Casey's to pick up scratchers. When they remodeled their store, some genius engineer (as Farmer H would say) put in an aisle directly across from the counter. That means there's a wall with hanging treats that leaves a narrow corridor in front of the registers. It's hard for two people to pass shoulder-to-shoulder. So the line has to wind out from either end, which puts it deep into shopping territory with those VIRUS circles on the floor. 

I always make mental note of who is already in line. I check both ends of the counter. Saturday, a woman was paying at the left register. A man in a BABY BLUE t-shirt was waiting on the first VIRUS circle. I got behind him on the next circle. I looked to the other end. No one was in line there. The register on that side was not manned. Two women were walking around. One putting stuff in her drink at the beverage station, the other perusing the rotating pizza case and deli area. They occasionally talked to each other.

The lady paying was taking a long time, using her card. The two far-enders stood at the end of that aisle, looking at the counter. If I could see THEM, I know they could see ME. A cashier came back from her break of sitting on the sidewalk in front of the store, smoking, and opened the other register. 

"I can help whoever's next."

Baby Blue went over to her side. I stepped up on his circle. The paying lady finally left. It was my turn. But those two far-enders jumped up to the counter! No way! They KNEW it wasn't their turn! I stood there, fuming as I am wont to do. Baby Blue was done, and Smokey said, 

"I can help you down here."

I walked to that end of the counter, and said, "That's fine. I was after him, anyway."

AND NOW WE MUST PAUSE FOR DESCRIPTIVE PURPOSES.

The far-enders who took my place were together. They both were in their 50s or 60s. Not spring chickens. The one nearest me had a gray crew-cut, wore gray sweatpants and a bright green shirt the color road crews wear as a vest, and thongs on her feet without the thing between the toes. The other one had hair like Moe Howard, the head Stooge, only salt-and-pepper, not black. She was in jeans and regular nondescript t-shirt. I didn't notice the shoes. I'm pretty sure they were together, and I don't just mean on a snack run to the convenience store. Not that there's anything wrong with that. But to NOT describe them as I do all my nemesi (plural of nemesis?) in convenience store lines would be reverse discrimination, don't you think?

I have nothing against lesbians. In fact, some of my best friends are lesbians, heh, heh! Okay. That's not true. Some of my best friends WERE lesbians. Not that they're now has-bians. I just lost touch with them since college. They comprised about 80 percent of the gals in my glasses, which were the upper-level courses for physical education majors. 

 

Two of my most get-alongable roomates were a lesbian couple. Heck, I even went on a date (PLATONIC) with a lesbian, because she asked me, because I had a car, and her girlfriend was out of town competing with the gymnastics team when STAR WARS: The Empire Strikes Back was released. And I turned down a date (ROMANTIC) with a pig-farmer from Kansas, because a movie was not what she wanted to see... Just saying, I knew a lot of them from classes and my roommates' parties. Sweet Gummi Mary! You couldn't throw a rock without hitting a lesbian. [Let the record show that Mrs. HM never threw a rock at a lesbian.]

Anyhoo... I have nothing against the lesbians. But one thing I know is that THEY DON'T PLAY! If they have an issue, you're sure to know about it. They are like the pit bulls and snapping turtles of the human female species. At least the ones I knew. And not necessarily in a bad way. They just don't generally let things go.

Which brings us back to what happened next, after I opened my SMART MOUTH, as Farmer H calls it, and said, "That's fine. I was after him, anyway."

Crew Cut obviously overheard me. She did that 'Slowly, I turned' thing, and stared at me. Of course I didn't meet her gaze. Do you think I have a death wish? But I could tell, out of my peripheral vision. She continued to look at me. More like she was piercing my skull with not just daggers, but with a fake finger formed of molten metal like the T 1000 in Terminator 2: Judgment Day (here's a 1:38 video clip).

 

Anyhoo... I was just stating the truth, right? I WAS after Baby Blue. I'd been in line at least five minutes before the Far-Enders quit wandering around and stood across the store in their own line where there was no cashier. And THEN jumped over to my side as soon as a cashier was available. So I can't help it if Crew Cut didn't like me stating the truth. Feeling guilty, maybe?

 

OH MY GOSH! She stood there staring at me until Moe Hair finally paid their bill and told her they were ready to leave. Sheesh! I thought it was gonna go down! Crew Cut was way scarier than Fake Kenny Rogers, who only pretended it was his turn. And even when I'd told him that I saw him come in while I was in line (at the GSCS), he didn't get all ready to rumble.

 

Maybe I should suggest those paper TAKE A NUMBER thingies...