“Yes, but what about the pommegranites?” he asked. I looked
over the gas pump to the fellow on the other side. No one near him, and he
certainly wasn't talking to me. “I need the
pommegranites,” he said, really needing the pommegranites it
seems.
I peered into his car. Couldn't be one hundred percent sure, but there
seemed to be no one in the car. What an odd fellow, I
thought.
“Okay, maybe we cam substiture kwumquates,” he said,
replacing the gas nozzle to the pump and turning his head just enough for me
to catch the ear piece and the wire snaking down to a unit on his belt.
“But people are going to notice.” I just noticed that
he wasn't schizophrenic.
You have my permission to link freely to any entry here. Go
ahead, I won't bite. I promise.
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