True Story
again: Yesterday I went to a restaurant
to pick up a to-go order.
The lady in
line in front of me was toting an 8 month old child and in tow was little boy
about two. I made faces at the 8 month
old child, girl I think, and she would beam a smile and me likewise. I asked how old and the mother told me eight
months. For some reason I thought they
were dirt poor. The only reason I
thought that was the 8 month old threw her pacifier a couple of times on the
floor and the mother each time would pick it up and give it to her and she
immediately put it in her mouth. That thing was on the floor. But when she placed her order she spoke like a
well trained educated speaker. Wrong again!
One time her
little boy said, "Corn Bread!"
I thought to
myself: I learned that very day My
grandson Benjamin said, "Dark Vader!"
At the cash
register I paid and the man gave me my order and thanked me for my business.
I said,
"Do I get a register receipt?"
He said,
"I always give a receipt!" And
ripped off the 6 to 8 feet long printed registered receipts and handed me the
one on the tail-end.
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