Pop Groin

Mike inches his box of popcorn to the parking lot.

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--"




"That's ridiculous!" I yelped. "I'm not paying that. What else do you have?"




"What kind of salt?"




Long pause. "How mu--"


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."



"Now, cut that out!"

I woke up groggy. Gee.

No comments:

Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...