SisterSpagnostic wrote:I want my Two Dollars!
The incessant spittle-spraying bellow of the stained hobo who'd (against your repeated protests)- haphazardly smeared at your car's windshield with a gallon jar of muddy ditchwater and a grime-encrusted sweatsock. (Which,BTW, he never removed from his foot, displaying surprising flexibility to accompany the surprising upper-body strength he must have needed to cling to the side mirror/doorcrack of your vehicle throughout four increasingly panic-fueled right turns, before the telephone pole you lightly sideswiped managed to finally dislodge him.)
Later in the evening, you went back through the checkout line at Safeway a second time, so as to be able to put a second can of creamed corn into the donation bin tucked in next to the hand-sanitizing wipestation, thus assuaging the last lingering pangs of conscience.
You seem to recall him getting to his feet and hurling a rock toward your car as he grew tiny in your rear-view mirror...You're pretty sure he's fine."And then two she-bears came down and mauled forty-two of the youths."