Local Wildlife

Yesterday I was taking my son's friend back to the airport and stopped in at a little country store to get a pack of cigarettes. (I know, Shut up.)
Running past the "No Gas" sign propped up against the ancient pumps, I realized that his just mgiht be my kinda place. I popped through the old weathered doors, startling the proprietor. He was an old country gent, Cardhart coat, red feed store hat, and beautiful silver hair cut short in typical farmer fashion. He apologized for snoozing, saying that he had just been sitting back watching old Matlock reruns. Not another soul was in the store. Dust covered the shelves, coating the snack packages, fishing tackle and candy bars that looked to have sat an awfully long time waiting to be bought.
"Good Morning, a pack of Camel lights, please."
"Don't got Camel Lahts, got Marbro Lahts."
Ohkaayy, this has got to be one podunk little store, they're not fancy European smokes. "How about regular Marlboros, you've got to have those?"
"Yup, got those."
Whew. I was at the point where I'da smoked Kool Milds or something just as putrid as that, I was that desperate.

(An aside for you, dear reader: Have you noticed that I figured out how to start a new paragraph? All you do is hit -=-enter-=-. Holy smoke!)
I was tempted to ask if there was coffee but decided that smoking was a big enough health risk.
*****
So this was written way back in April or something. I'm sorry now I didn't finish the post, it was pretty good. I have some old poetry I can find and post too. I think this will be my writing journal.

Virgin Blogger

Well, I'm doing it. Sorta. I just tried to hit "return" and I can't start a new paragraph! Geez, it might take a while to get this right.