Must be Monday

This morning it was cold – really cold. I got about a block from my house before coming to the conclusion that the only thing standing between me and being frozen solid like a lettuce dipped in liquid nitrogen was going to be a 20 oz. cup of 99-cent gas station cappuccino. Fortunately, there’s a gas station two blocks from my house, so I stopped in pursuit of my salvation.

I was pouring a mixture of “cinnamon danish cappuccino” and house blend when the gas station attendant walked by and asked how I was doing that morning.

“Good,” I replied. “Cold. Really cold.”

“Well,” he said, “I’d offer to keep you warm, but I bet you’d turn me down, and I can’t deal with rejection.”

I blinked.

He went on, “Plus, I think my wife wouldn’t like it very much.”

“Sounds like a lose-lose situation to me,” I said, backing slowly away from the coffee machine. Since I’d poured the dang thing, I guess I had to pay…

While making my change, the gas station attendant continued. “Besides, I’m probably too old for you anyway. I mean, I have kids older than you. I can say that, because I turned seventy on Friday, and I just found out my daughter is 45.”

“Uhm,” I said. “Happy birthday?”

The moral of this story is, unless you like inappropriate come-ons from 70-year-old gas station attendants at 6:30 in the morning, make your coffee at home.


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