Its been about four hours since I arrived here at Clines Corners. People have come and gone, countless people. Hurrying into the cracking parking lot for gas, then quickly slipping into the darkness from which they appeared. Others come in and chat for a minute with the cashier. Who is awfully nice.
There is a new cashier working now, she has a terribly thick limey accent. I’m assuming the previous cashier didn’t explain to her my situation. Since I’ll be sitting in this chair tucked in the corner for the next five hours I’m sure she’ll ask what I’m doing here. If she tells me to leave I’ll simply moon her from the outside, show her the old queen on my ass. An obese customer just came in and exclaimed “No Hostess cupcakes!?” Ha. I wonder what I’ll do for the next five hours. There’s simply nothing else around. Just dying grass and desert brush. There’s a sign in here that reads “CLINES CORNERS- 60 MILES FROM ANYWHERE, YET SO CLOSE TO EVERYWHERE” 60 miles isn’t close to anything if your motorcycle is lying in a ditch on an abandoned stretch of Mexican Highway.
I don’t think the new cashier is from England. Her accent has a touch of Dutch. So I’m going to assume she’s from South Africa. I wonder if she will still be offended when I show her the queen on my ass. I’m sure my bare buttocks will be offensive enough. God it’s white. Pale enough to make Edward green with envy.
The sheriff just walked in with a tactical thigh holster. I wonder how much action he sees out here. Not nearly enough I bet. He looks like the kind of cop that gets all riled up everytime he pulls someone over. Works himself into a frenzy hoping the suspect pops out of the car guns blazing, one in each hand. He plays this dramatic scenario over and over in his mind frequently. Especially when he’s pounding his equally muscular wife, it helps him climax. He knows he’ll keep his cool in this situation, calmly crouch behind his bullet resistant door, and stitch the bastard a couple times across the forehead. Of course, all this will be recorded on his dash-cam. He’ll be awarded the Sheriffs equivalent of the Medal of Honor. Then that night, after the ceremony he’ll give the old woman a solid boning, while watching the footage, naturally.
I have a creeping suspicion this officer is incredibly insecure. I’m going to assume he was moderately popular in high school, but certainly a follower. Judging by how short he is I’m guessing he suffer from severe micro-penis. The main and driving reason he became a lawman. The oversized pick ups and tactical thigh holsters issued by the Torrence County Sheriffs department undoubtedly attracted him and his female repelling penis to the force.
But I’m sure his days are filled by handing out “80 in a 70” speeding tickets, interspersed by the occasional domestic violence call to the local Indian reservation.
I don’t think the new cashier is from England. Her accent has a touch of Dutch. So I’m going to assume she’s from South Africa. I wonder if she will still be offended when I show her the queen on my ass. I’m sure my bare buttocks will be offensive enough. God it’s white. Pale enough to make Edward green with envy.
The sheriff just walked in with a tactical thigh holster. I wonder how much action he sees out here. Not nearly enough I bet. He looks like the kind of cop that gets all riled up everytime he pulls someone over. Works himself into a frenzy hoping the suspect pops out of the car guns blazing, one in each hand. He plays this dramatic scenario over and over in his mind frequently. Especially when he’s pounding his equally muscular wife, it helps him climax. He knows he’ll keep his cool in this situation, calmly crouch behind his bullet resistant door, and stitch the bastard a couple times across the forehead. Of course, all this will be recorded on his dash-cam. He’ll be awarded the Sheriffs equivalent of the Medal of Honor. Then that night, after the ceremony he’ll give the old woman a solid boning, while watching the footage, naturally.
I have a creeping suspicion this officer is incredibly insecure. I’m going to assume he was moderately popular in high school, but certainly a follower. Judging by how short he is I’m guessing he suffer from severe micro-penis. The main and driving reason he became a lawman. The oversized pick ups and tactical thigh holsters issued by the Torrence County Sheriffs department undoubtedly attracted him and his female repelling penis to the force.
But I’m sure his days are filled by handing out “80 in a 70” speeding tickets, interspersed by the occasional domestic violence call to the local Indian reservation.
