Surely, You Gest


Flanderin locked the door of her car, but forgot her seatbelt.  It was a short drive, maybe two miles.  Her car smelled of stale Cheerios and rotten banana peels.  The steering wheel was worn through. 


The radio on the car was still playing, "I can see clearly now the rain is gone..." A bright day, well night...well not bright, but she could see clearly.


As well as she could, anyway. She drove the speed limit.  She always drove the speed limit.  Flanderin was legally blind, and tonight she forgot her glasses. But it was only two miles, and she just wanted fries.


As she pulled into the drive-thru that was not a drive-thru, and started asking over and over again for a small fry, the owner of Turner's liquor came out and yelled at her to get away. "What the hell you doin' out here, lady. This ain't no friggen Mcdonalds!"


In a breathy voice, as deep as she could make it, and trying desperately to hide her identity out of embarrassment, Flanderin said, "Well excuse me, Mr. Turner. I say, I do say, Mr. Turner, surely, you gest."

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