Saturday, April 24, 2010

A Hillmomban Fable

Mrs. Hillbilly Mom has connections.

If anyone besides Cazzie has been around through all incarnations of the Mansion, you might remember my dalliance with Sonic Cherry Diet Coke. Ahh...those were the days. I even had a brief fling with the drive-thru dude.

Since that time, my tastes have changed. I now have my tasteometer set to Sonic Diet Coke With Lime. Since the #1 son is no longer a slave to standing on the sidelines at basketball practice, we can leave Newmentia at the stroke of 3:10 and revel in the Sonic Happy TwoHours. Uh huh. That means $1.o8 instead of $2.05. Times are tough, people. If you're going to feed your addiction, you need to learn how to pinch those pennies.

On Friday, we pulled into the drive-thru line at 3:39. I was turned to talk to the #1 son about some unwanted Fatal Attraction flapdoodle (indirectly related to the boy, and thus indirectly related to MOI) that had reared its ugly head during my plan period, having been brought to my attention by a visit from Mr. Principal, when a tap on my T-Hoe window startled the bejeebus out of me.

The Sonic drive-thru gal was holding out a Route 44 and a medium cup. "I saw you pull in. Do you want a Coke today, too?" Bless her little pea-pickin' heart! She brought out my order before I even ordered it. That's some service, by cracky! #1 already had a 7-11 slushie, and his caffeine overload was not on my agenda, so I politely declined the extra Coke. Don't even THINK that I for one minute entertained the notion of The Pony drinking caffeine. I thanked Sonic Gal and held out my $1.08. She wouldn't hear of it. "I don't want your money, Sweetie. Have a nice day!" With that, she turned on her heel and hiked back to the building.

She's a former student of mine. One that I hadn't seen for about six years, her having been sent to another campus for an alleged valium-induced sapphic stunt on the floor at the back of Basementia's science classroom. It was the valium, or as the kids call it, volumes, that cooked her goose, not the other part. This was not MY classroom, mind you. I was safely ensconced across the hall back then, helping students such as herself help themselves. And like a lion returning to thank me for pulling a thorn from his paw, she proffered that pilfered drink with pride.

I believe in seeing the good in everybody.

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