CHARLESTON, South Carolina -- I have no resistance to the fragrance of fresh, delicious, crisp theatre popcorn, so I bought a box to chomp in the car.
"How much?" I asked, thumbing through my wallet.
"Three-twelve," said the snack bar attendant.
"Three dol--"
"Three hundred-twelve dollars."
"You've got to be kidding!" I exclaimed, handing over the last of our vacation cash and $15 I'd won in a beauty contest.
"You want butter on that?" he mumbled.
"How much?"
"You driving the Dodge?"
I nodded, pointing out the window, "See--"
"Keys."
"...Keys?"
"Si."
"That's ridiculous!" I yelped. "I'm not paying that. What else do you have?"
"Salt."
"...Salt?"
"Si."
"What kind of salt?"
"Sea."
"...Sea?"
"Si."
Long pause. "How mu--"
"Sickening."
I declined the butter and the salt, as we needed the rental vehicle to drive me to the emergency room for a truss. This Kiddie size popcorn is kinda heavy.
"Mr. Durrett," said the doctor, "your x-rays show you have a hernia."
"Hernia?"
"Hee."
"Now, cut that out!"
I woke up groggy. Gee.
No comments:
Post a Comment