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Piggly Wiggly
The girl behind the meat counter at the Piggly Wiggly in Madisonville or Mandeville said, "who gotta holta you?," referring to the bloody bandaid covering the spot near my left temple that gushed blood into my mouth this morning after my run in with the 380 pound Viking convection oven.
The plate lunch at the Piggly Wiggly was turkey and cornbread dressing, w/ salad. And I got a large coke Icee on this sultry April preview of summer like day.
I drove my boss's truck from the small exclusive ungated ("we don't really need gates on the North Shore") subdivision, a nice metallic blue 95 Chevy long bed with large engine and glass packs that make it rumble not loudly, but slightly.
Just a mental image that I play with--imagining to what far off destination my plate lunch and I could arrive at before my boss realized I wasn't coming back, A/C blasting, heading to one of the four corners, presets on the radio changed before the first fillup.