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Gas Station Blues

August 14, 2006

When I walked into a nearby conbini (that’s convenience store to you lot) the woman behind the counter started singing, and said she felt like singing a reggae song. She asked me if I sung reggae, and I said, “Not professionally.”

I know she meant well, but I hate it when people do that. Especially today.

She wouldn’t let up, though. She asked me to sing for her when I was checking out. “Sing what?”
“A reggae song.”
“Which one?”
“Oh, I don’t know”
Of course.
“Make one up,” she said.
“How about the I want to get out of this gas station blues?”

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