Monday, June 18, 2012

Quit fucking around, sonny.

Again, the little smartass down at George's Liquors tried to card me the last time I was in for tobacco.  I can understand their caution with the crackdown by LEO for selling to minors, but I'm in there almost every day, so we've been through this before once or twice. Instead of waving my grey beard at him, now I just reminence. The latest exchange:

"Gimme a can of Long Cut, Chief."
"Five Dollars and some proof of age. Sir."
"My first car had an 8 track in it."
"Thank you. See you tomorrow."

I'm willing to bet the little fucker doesn't even know what an 8 track player is.