A short drive later and a few snarfs of laughter (we can't help it - our brains go into hyper mode when in short proximity to each other) we arrived at Kroger to buy cereal and milk. No sooner had we steered our small cart into the aisle and were debating the price of "Fruit Rings" to "Fruit Loops" did a man pop from around the corner.
"BEEP, BEEP!" he said and smiled as he hopped in front of us. Clothed in a white dress shirt, dark slacks, a tie and one of the god-awfulest toupees I had ever seen, he was also too tan for winter, and too old to be uttering the words "beep, beep."
"Now," he boomed to his waiting audience of two 'tweens nearby. "I want to buy something that's less than thirteen cents an ounce!"
"Okay - let's find a cereal for me..." Summer and I moved on down the row, leaving the man and the girls behind.
"BEEP! BEEP!" the man interrupted.
"Oh, excuse us!" My sister and I apologized for being in his way as we are children of the children of the Great Depression and were taught that manners, above all else, were to be maintained even when one is contemplating beating the hairpiece off a random stranger by sheer force of will - and a 64oz box of generic Cheerios.
"You want a good cereal! Try this!" he then popped a box of Grape Nuts in my face and added, "put in some brown sugar and serve it hot." He winked. I suppressed a shudder but remained diplomatic on the surface of my freckled and bespeckled face.
"Okay, I'll try it. But if it's not any good - I will hunt you down!" I laughed and tossed the box in my cart and tried to get away.
"Wait! You said you'd hunt me down, huh? In that case - add mustard and parsnips!"
"I like those, too!" I yelled behind me as we ran for the dairy case.
"Are you gonna toss out the box of Grape Nuts now?" Summer asked as we flattened ourselves against the refrigerators of Vitamin D.
"Nah. Sad thing is - it actually does sound good!"
We grabbed some milk, ran through the check-out line and hurried to my waiting van.
"Those poor girls that were with him. I mean, that was probably their dad. Can you imagine having to live with that?!?!"
Summer paused, and her cute, upswept nose turned to face me from profile.
"Holly? That's probably what people say about us and our daddy."
I stared at the red light in front of me, contemplated her observation, and completely lost it as I dissolved into dash-slapping giggles and hornks of laughter.
Our dad is the weird guy who makes lame jokes. But, and this is important, he does NOT wear some floppy, streaky toupee.
That floppy, white-streaked mess is all his own.