The Pony Was Mortified

I know I've told this story before, way back nearer to when it happened. You probably never read it back then, so here's the gist of it.

The Pony and I had stopped by Little Caesars one evening to pick up pizzas. I remember it was cold weather, with the store all warm and bright, dark outside, water fogging on the windows. The Pony was late elementary age. We must have been to a basketball game for Genius, and Farmer H was bringing him home. Little Caesar's was busy, so I gave The Pony some change to use for playing a game while we waited.

The game was kind of like pinball, but not really. If you won, it dispensed a prize, which was a SuperBall. You know the kind. A dense rubber ball that bounced like crazy. Maybe the size of a rubber ball like used to play jacks. Only WAY bouncier. The Pony was good at this game, and each time he won, he gave me the "prize" to hold.

I went to pick up our order at the counter. It was two pizza boxes and two bags of breadsticks, with the dipping sauce. Awkward to hold, while having my purse on my arm, and trying not to let the breadsticks or sauce slide off.

The Pony continued to play that game, wanting to finish. I was standing in the middle of the crowded store, ready to go, getting exasperated as The Pony did not heed my call. Finally, The Pony wandered over and asked what was wrong.

"Do you know how hard it is to hang onto these pizzas while standing here holding your balls?"

Yes. Several people turned to look. The Pony was mortified.

I can't say that I blame him.