So I’ll begin by setting the scene. Picture me desperately tired and sweaty, having just finished playing roller hockey for two hours. But I am also at this time blessed by the curative powers of a Route 44 Ocean Water, a drink commonly known in Ancient Greece as ‘ambrosia.’ So there I was, in the parking lot of a gas station, having stopped in to fill up on petrol. And as I swipe my card and undo the gas cap, a fellow walks up with a red petrol container and asks if I can give him just a bit of gas. Please stop and take a moment here to note the clever alternating of the terms ‘petrol’ and ‘gas,’ done so as to avoid redundancy. Or a couple of bucks for it he says, seein’ as his truck just ran out. So me, being a veritable saint, comply. I figure a gallon of petrol is fine. It’s not like giving a homeless person money and watching them turn around and buy a crack rock with it. And, actions justified, our friend actually takes the newly acquired gas and pours it into his truck, parked just around the corner. All’s well with the world.
Fast forward to the end of the scene. Having finished filling up, I run inside the store to collect my receipt. And who should hold the door for me as I enter? None other than our friend of red petrol container fame, a coffee held in each hand. So naturally, feeling hoodwinked, I ask him if I can borrow a couple bucks to buy a cup of coffee, and then I roundhouse kick him in the face. It’s a shame the candy aisle got destroyed by my nunchuks, as I really could have used some Sour Punch Straws. But I did at least claim one of the abandoned coffees of my friend before I left the scene. And as I drove away, it was all worth it.
Coffee never tasted so sweet.
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