The Squeegee Incident

This weekend we drove down to Orange County for reasons which I assure you were perfectly valid, and I just wanted to share a small magical moment that occurred in a 76 gas station in the town of Grapevine: an elderly gentleman cringed before me.

Now I should begin by saying that I am not a particularly threatening looking kind of guy. Goofy and somewhat slow-witted, yes. Threatening, no.

While I was gassing up the car, I looked for a squeegee to shift some of the truly impressive weight of bug parts from my windshield. In the fine tradition of Interstate 5 gas stations, there was but one squeegee to be had, and it was not at my pump. So I grabbed the squeegee from the next row of pumps.

As I toted my squeegee carwards, an elderly gentleman and his wife pulled in to that row of pumps. I washed my windshield. Then, when the tank was full, I glanced over at the elderly guy, who was looking futilely for the squeegee.

Being the helpful sort that I am, I walked towards him, holding out the squeegee for him to use.

Now I don't know what this guy thought I was going to do with the squeegee, but he flinched and took a couple of steps back. In his mind, perhaps, he saw me standing over him, raining sanitary blows upon him, as his blood slowly mixed with Windex, running off into the drain. Perhaps he thought I would restrain him and squeegee his glasses against his will. I don't know.

Anyway, in the end I just kicked him in the shins and took his wallet, so he wouldn't feel he cringed for nothing.

That's all I have to say about that. I would like to close by saying "squeegee" a few more times.

Squeegee squeegee squeegee






squeegee