I know you were delighted to see myself and LaRae walk up get her package checked in. I know we made your day when you pulled the pink bra out of the plastic bag. I know you were impressed by the funbags that must have filled it. I know you have to give us a tag to complete the return. What I don't get is why you chose to elevate the bra while writing the next Great American Novel on your little pad. Were you showing off to your skinny friend? Were you reminiscing about your glory days of panty raids? Were you thinking on how you were going to recount your great fortune to your cigar smoking, shuffleboard playing buddies back at the home? Were you trying to prove to the younger guy waiting behind us that you could still score some undergarments that didn't look like they needed a military intervention to build? Here is to you, little old man at Walmart, and your affection for LaRae's "brashiere".
No comments:
Post a Comment