Hey, Y’all. I guess karma might be a real thing after all. I dared ole Lukus to stay in that haunted house, and Darla went and invited me again to go shoppin’ ’cause we need to do more together I am told. After the fright I had at Costco I had reckoned she’d know better. That’s what I get for reckonin’.
Now first off, we didn’t go to one of them superstores again. We went to Harris Teeter. Just a regular grocery store. Heck, we even went in the middle of the afternoon. Now I will say, it was a might empty when we went inside. That made me feel better right there. It was a good thing too. I’m afraid sweet Darla can be as decisive as a Donald Trump wedding license when it comes to shoppin’. She is always a changin’ her mind or forgettin’ where things is. I bet I walked a half mile and didn’t never leave the first four aisles of the store.
Somehow we finally made our way down another row of food. I got all excited ’cause I seen they had applesauce on sale. I loves me some good old fashion applesauce, and that stuff said it come from Virginia. That’s where my Gram was from and she made the best applesauce. Well sir, I pick me up a couple jars. I put them in the cart and that’s when I notices juice on my hand. That seemed a might strange since these were jars. I looks inside one of ’em and almost lost my lunch. The seal had done broke and there were green and black mold sorta floatin’ around the top of that sauce.
I was in a panic. I didn’t want nothin’ to do with that applesauce after that. There I is, moldy applesauce juice on my hands and nobody to wipe them on. I’m way too afraid of Darla to even think about doing that to her. Fortunately, Darla knew where the bathroom was. I set out to the front of the store holding my hands away from me like they didn’t even belong to me. I see the sign that says Men and rush inside. I’m sitting there scrubbin’ down like I’m gonna perform surgery, or ‘que a hog. I starts to calm myself the longer I scrub, and that’s when I notice the changin’ table. I don’t think nothin’ of it. Most guys bathrooms have them now. Poor fellas. I rinse off my hands, my forearms, my elbows, my biceps, and that’s when I notices. I see nothin’ but stalls.
Normally a fella expects to see a couple of urinals. I start to feel a might panicked. What if I was in the wrong bathroom? Man, I didn’t feel nuthin’ like a woman, at least not then. That’s when I see back past the stalls is a tiny hallway. I walks over prayin’. Sure enough at the end of this hallway is a urinal. ‘Cept it ain’t what I’m expectin’. I mean, this thing can’t be two feet above the ground. I reckon they do that for the youngin’s. That seems like a waste of money and an inconvenience for us adults if you ask me.
Everyone knows if you want to put in a urinal for boys you just needs to tile the walls, put a drain on the floor, and hang up a garden hose. It’s far less mess and they’re more likely not to miss. Y’all be good.