Tuesday, November 10, 2009

Ode to the Gas Station Gods

I will start this blog with a classic example of how my life is awesome.

I was fourteen. My family was on a trip to Corbin, Kentucky to see my grandparents. We had stopped at a Shell to put gas in our car. Gas makes cars go.

We went inside because my nubile, fourteen-year-old body was craving caffeine. We bought some Slim Jims and a big Mocha frappuccino that I could barely hold in my tiny sausage fingers. There was a balding man behind the counter. As my dad was pulling out his credit card, I decided to be adorably cheeky, as was expected of people in my age group.

"You can control the intercom, right?" I asked as the balding man rang up my giant frappuccino. "So, you're like, the gas station god. You could make them do whatever you wanted."

"We think she needs medication," my dad interjected. "We just aren't sure what kind yet."

The balding man handed him his credit card, looking disinterested. As we exited the store, a crackle sounded above our heads and echoed in the gas station's lot. The two other people present looked up in confusion as deep laughter rang out from the intercom in terrifying waves.

"Muahahahaha. I am the master of the intercom! Bow to me and despair!"

I recognized balding man's voice. Throwing my arms up in a signal of ultimate triumph, I shouted, "YES! YES, I LOVE YOU, INTERCOM GUY!" as my father dragged me back to the car.

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