Last night, I took 14-yr-old JackMan to Publix because after three hours of drumline practice he had a hankering for a chicken tender sub. As we were pulling out of our neighborhood road onto the main drag, a white station wagon turned into the ‘hood, right past us.
T: Ew, that was that pervert Byron who works at Publix. You know, the one with the big ol’ thick square glasses? He lives three doors down from the Testa’s old place.
J: Why did you call him a perv?
T: Well, whenever you buy feminine hygiene products, he won’t touch the boxes, except with two fingers, by the corners. You can tell it’s excruciating for him.
J: That doesn’t make him pervy.
T: Hey, it’s weird. It reeks of weirdness. Take my word for it.
J: Maybe so, but a pervert is someone who likes to sniff girls’ panties—stuff like that. No, he's the exact opposite.
T: I guess you’re right.
J: But, still, we should go when he’s working and load the cart up with Kotex and Tampax. Oh, and Midol.
T: We could throw in some Summer’s Eve and FDS too. Boy, that would really freak him out.
J: Yeah!
3 comments:
that is a crack-up conversation! Our girls were that age about ten years ago, and I had forgotten about those um, "talks" with them where you first realized you were on a new, equal footing with this person. Thanks for posting it
The bonus here is that at least if you ever need some kotex, JackMan won't be embarassed to go to the store and buy it for you.
My parents decided that the dinner table was a good place to tell my little brother Peter that I had gotten my first period. He literally fell OUT of his chair - he was so grossed out.
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