The Required Amount at the Prescribed Rate (Handcrafted From the Finest Corinthian Leather)
Damned Child Locks!
After a fantastic day of snowboarding yesterday, Terry, Kim, Stacy and I hopped in my Subaru to head home, but on the way out of town I spotted the Shawnee General Store and stopped to get a cup of coffee; Terry was riding shotgun, and he got out as well, but Kim was eating animal crackers and Stacy was texting Ed, so they didn't get out and we went in and browsed what they had and ended up talking to the proprietor for a bit (he grew up in New Brunswick and was a Rutgers football fan) and then, finally, we went back to the car and Stacy and Kim were laughing when we opened the door, because we had locked them in (child locks on the back doors) and Stacy had even gone so far as to text Terry a message (we are locked in the car) but he didn't have his phone, and oddly enough, though we felt bad that they were trapped in the car for the duration, we never let them go into the store or asked if they wanted to-- we just got back in and took off (although I did share my chocolate bar-- Stacy took a piece, and then Terry took a piece, which made no sense, because he actually got to go into the store).
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