One day I'm hop, skippin', and jumpin' along, getting carded at bars and convenience stores along the way, feeling great, feeling gay, and then suddenly, I'm stopped in my tracks with a "Thank you, ma'am..." from the 16 year old boy behind the counter at the gas station as I paid for a few bags of ice.
Oh, "Miss." I hardly knew ye.
You never forget your first kiss or your first ma'am.
Sigh.
1 comment:
Can I load that block of ice into your buggy ma'am?
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