A Sack of What?!

Yesterday I was sitting at my post (in front of the TV on the couch, if you must know) when it came to my attention that in order to convenience myself for the long night ahead, I might go to the gas station to relieve them of a liter of Diet Coke (I'd won a free liter, and had the cap to prove it) and mayhap some beers (to refresh my husband and his guest for the night). I went.

Once there, I sought out their favorite 'cheap beer'. Keystone Light! Not without Potassium! I noticed an older gentleman reaching for the Natty Ice at the same time. Score! "We're all in for an old-fogie sort of drunk tonight!" I thought. And I walked with my 18 pack to the counter.

The elder gentleman was checking out at the other register. When it came time for change, he brought out a fuzzy little purse for coins. The lady naturally asked him what it was made of, and I quote, "Rabbit?"

"No," the man said.

"Come on, tell me!" said the over-enthusiastic counter-girl.

He shook his head, remaining silent. Laughing to himself.

Finally, at the end of the transaction, after much pleading, he told her. I was too far away to catch him saying it, but I did hear her exclamation afterwards.

"A deer's NUTSACK?!?"

Let me tell you, the elderly gentleman was more than pleased to get this reaction, it fucking Made His Week. "Yup," he opined. "That thar's a deer's nutsack, alright. Carved it off me-ownself."

"Good for you," thought I. "Good for you, Elderly Gentleman! Don't let the man tell you what sort of purse to keep your coins in!"

"Also, can I get a nutsack the next time you bag a buck? Please?" I thought afterwards. It was too late, however, he was out of the range of telekinesis. "Damn you, range of telekinesis!" I swore. I swore out loud!

And that's what I live for, people, to swear right out loud in my car, and then to drive home, get wasted, and report these stories straight out of the Ozarks into your [insert name of room where you keep your computer].