This is about the other night, see, we stopped at TG & R, after dinner. me and a Pisces. Lottery ticket and so forth at the stop and go store.
(TG & R, is affectionately referred to by its politically incorrect moniker: Two Ghandi’s and Raheem.)
Guy wanders in, tattoos crawling out from under his black t-shirt, grabbed a couple of bottles from a cooler in the store, he shivered for a moment, then looked at what was in his hand. He looked up at me.
Eyebrow, nose, lower lip thing, plus the “expanders” in his ears. Black jeans with big, black boots. Bald head, just shaved. Looked like he could be in his twenty’s with up to a decade on the margin for error, either side. It was dark outside.
He looked at me, glanced down at what he had in his hand, looked back at me, and I smirked.
“I don’t even want to be seen with this stuff. Now that I’m forty, I drink the good stuff. This is what I drank in high school. In fact, I’m getting this for some of the kids from work.”
Pink champagne. Cheap, pink champagne.
