My faithful readers might have noticed I’ve mentioned nothing about G-word activity recently. The reason is simple: one must have something to load in the G-word in order to fire it. (I will be using code language since we all know that our internet communications are monitored and I’m sure anything about, uh, blasters, will be spotted immediately.)
Mr. T and I had made a little game out of stopping in at every sporting goods store we could while we were on our road trip. We were looking for A-word of the niner variety since the shelves at home have been empty for weeks. Everywhere we stopped it was the same story: nothing,nada. My favorite story was the sporting goods store in Rock Springs. The owner had taken one niner A-word round and taped it to a card which he then propped up on the empty shelf where the boxes should be. It read: “This is so you can remember what it looks like!”
All this is prelude to the excitement I felt when the word spread through our little burg that the A-word supply truck was delivering A-word niners to the local Big 5 on Tuesday afternoon. Dah Mama had a doctor’s appointment over in that part of town so I thought I’d run in, bag a box of A-word niners, and scoot to the doctor’s just in time. No such luck.
When we arrived at the Big 5 the line had already formed and it was nearly out the door. The rumors were flying that we would only be allowed one container of any kind of A-word per person and the truck had already made its delivery. At any moment, nay, in a heartbeat, the door would open and the selling would begin.
I could hardly leave DM in a hot car while I waited in A-word line. Also, I was going to miss her appointment if we had to wait any longer than 15 minutes. It was a no-brainer. I asked the nice people to hold my place, raced back to the hot car, got DM into the wheel chair, and raced her into the store thinking that she was my ticket to purchase TWO containers of A-word niners.
The wait continued. Friendships were struck up. People were using fancy phones to locate other establishments that might have A-word. The word was going out that the Big 5 on 3rd Street had A-WORD!!!
There’s a $25 charge for missing a doctor’s appointment. I counted it as cheap and a cost of activating a G-word. Finally, the manager came out with his goods. When he got to me and DM, he refused to sell one box of A-word to my mother!! Is that discrimination? Ageism? No way, no more than one box of A-word and he refused to count my mother as a person! No time to argue–as it was we were only 10 minutes late for the doctor’s and escaped the late fee.
Meanwhile, DM decided we must be robbing the store. She started calling out, “Are we doing something illegal? Are we going to get in trouble? Why are we in a place with G-words???”
Trust me–this is not what you want other customers to hear when everyone there has already worked themselves into a minor state of government paranoia. I was hissing at DM to hush, we were legal, I just needed some ‘supplies’ and gave her the bum’s rush out of the store. This was after paying $28.00 for one box of A-word!
Now when I take her out for anything, she asks in a very loud voice, “Where are the G-words? Are we illegal? Is this okay?” It’s funny to write this. It’s funny to tell it. I just wish I could still share a laugh with her over it. I’ll have to content myself with thinking DM is now convinced I’m running G-words.