I was at the bank the other day and as I waited to hear yet again that there is never enough money in my account, I picked out one of the suckers that are there for the taking. I should have known from the name of the suckers, Dum Dums that my day was destined to be yet another test.
First off the flavor of suckers I like is usually some berry flavor. Not a weird berry, just regular berry, straw, rass, blue. So I picked the little sucker by the color of the wrapper, red, since I didn’t have my glasses on there was no way I could read the tiny writing on the wrapper. I stuffed the sucker in my bank bag for later. I mean I didn’t want to seem like I was there just for the suckers, I do have some etiquette. I wouldn’t want someone at a window talking to me while slurping on a sucker, would you?
So I finished my business with the teller and the next few things that happened I blame totally on that sucker-because I can! I dropped the bank bag as I left the window and the roll of fifty cent pieces I had just gotten split open and even though the bag was zipped a few of the coins escaped and rolled across the floor. Now that isn’t too much of a thing, except have you noticed as you get older the ground is getting further and further away? So having to contort down to meet the ground like six times in a row picking up flat half dollars off the slick tiled floor was challenging. The down isn’t so bad—but the coming back up is a bugger! My change in hand I, red faced, left the bank, sucker un-crushed and still tucked away—waiting.
Oh if you have come away from that last little tale wondering why anyone would get a roll of fifty cent pieces? Well it’s just a thing I do sometimes. I like to leave them as tips. I used to get them as tips and I kept them longer than any other coins I can remember. I liked having them on hand when all the other money was gone. They saved me more than once when I needed extra cash. Just something about a fifty cent piece that you can keep easier than a quarter. I know, I know just another quirk. I’m betting that most people have some quirk they keep in their bag of life… Don’t you? If not feel free to use my fifty cent piece quirk!
Next I needed weed spray. Off to the weed spray store where I picked up a jug and the lid was askew so I tried to put it on straight. Should have heard that little voice yelling, “Sucker!” Well dum-dum Miss Fix It me screwed too tight and cracked the jug and weed spray gurgled out and well, wet clean up on isle 9…
Next on my list I was going to get some hair color. Just going to give it a try. Wink, wink. So I’m looking at the hundreds of packages when I picked one up and yea I dropped it. It wasn’t my fault. It was a slick container, all shiny and smooth and filled with blue hair dye. Yep, the voice hollered, “Sucker!” Again, wet clean up on isle 4.
Next the grocery store. But in light of the weed spray and hair color? Needed pickles, passed the pickle jars. Needed mayonnaise, passed the mayonnaise jars. Needed a jar of spaghetti sauce, definitely passed the jars of spaghetti sauce! For the next few meals anyway, there will be only things that come from a box. A nice safe, sturdy box!
This shopping excursion took place out of town so I had a couple hours to drive to get home. During the drive I spotted the bank bag on the seat next to me and thought about that sucker. Laughing at all the mishaps and thumbing my nose at that fate thingy I grabbed the bag dug out the sucker, unwrapped it stuck it in my pie hole and began to slobber at it.
I couldn’t figure out the berry flavor– straw, rass, or blue. Well it wasn’t blueberry as it was this a kinda pinkish color. After a few licks and swallows I had no idea what I was consuming so I un-wadded the wrapper. I now had my glasses on as I was driving, uh the travel lanes are much clearer that way. The wrapper announced that the flavor was a “mystery flavor.” My day did not need another surprise so I pitched the sucker, turned up the radio and drove the rest of the way singing as loud as I could. Very therapeutic.
Trina lives in Eureka. Share with her at firstname.lastname@example.org. Really!