The 7 Eleven Crackwhore

Ever notice that you only see crackwhores when you HAVE to run to the ghetto 7-Eleven up the road because you're making muffins and you only have 3/4 cups of butter and you need 1 1/2 cups of butter?

I live in a relatively small, rural town that is made up of mostly farmers, families and one freak. It's a city where people actually drive the speed limit in the school zone. The thing that is nice about living in this city is that you don't come across the weirdo's that lurk in the larger more urban metropolis' (i.e. Hamtramck). So the fact that I had to go out this moring to get butter meant that I could either drive the 10 minutes to the grocery store or drive two minutes to the corner 7-Eleven. I never go to this 7-Eleven because it looks like a fucking crackhouse and the people that pollute my city who go in and out of that store are crackwhores. Today was no exception.

I pulled into the parking lot to see it littered with late model cars. A clear sign that the folks INSIDE are just as trashy as the shit they drive. Hey I might have a tether on my van but it's not all rusted out with a fucked up muffler. I saw a woman on the payphone. (Note: Newer suburban shopping establishments don't have payphones anymore!) Her ears were bright red as were her cheeks and she wore only a thin jacket. It appeared she had been outside for some time. I make my way to the back of the store, grab my butter and head to the cash register. She's standing there talking about how she just walked all the way from such-and-such place slurring her words, that she's cold, blah blah. I just wanted to buy my damn butter. So the woman next to me in line says, "I'll give you a ride." Oh great another imbecile polluting my city who offers a ride to the crackwhore. The crackwhore mumbles something, gets her pack of Newport Lights and they're off.

Finally i can go home and start being Miss Molly Homemaker and bake me up some muffins.