STORIES FROM THE HERRICKREPORT.COM
A Fresh Shirt
How do I tell this story with such a delicate character and odious connotations with out offending the sensibilities of the morally decent listener? Well you have to imagine the situation and understand the participant. D.C. is a morally and religiously righteous individual. He rarely expresses his most mal-odious thoughts in strong language and asks others to refrain likewise. So when he related the following "told to me as true story" I found it to be a real side splitter in the extreme.
D.C. related that every year his friends in the car business traveled South across Alabama to the Gulf Shore to big game fish, drink and generally run amuck with the saints and sinners of those regions. It was an expensive trip and well outside his normal budget to accompany them as a full partner. But seeing that he didn't drink and they needed a sober driver they hired him to go along as a full member of the party with expenses paid as long as he drove the rented motor home to the coast and back
On most trips they were in no great hurry to return and slow intelligent driving was the rule as long as the booze lasted. On this particular trip two seemingly unrelated events produced a singular uncomfortable set of circumstances. First on the last night the whole party had eaten large amounts of seafood, together with beans, bread, potatoes, ears of roasting corn, and large pieces of fresh pecan pie. Washed down as it were with prodigious amounts of both weak and strong drink. Secondly one of the gentleman's wife was well along in the birthing process and was about to dump a child in a Knox County Tennessee hospital and he thought that for future peace he ought to be there. This led the whole party to return by the most expedient means possible and that put DC in the driver's seat and the rest in various positions throughout the motor home.
DC mounted the seat and drove as fast as he safely could be expected to without interruptions. Urged on; he tried to override the natural urges and discomforts associated with gluttony, bad water, and a bumpy Alabama highways. But nature always wins out and this rule was not to often violated successfully.
Now the back roads of Alabama are not generously endowed with places fit to repose during one's visits to the ceramic throne. But right on cue an open "one pump" establishment appeared and after skidding to a dusty stop he ran without explanation to the door marked "white men"; slammed the door; dropped his drawers and his posterior without ceremony or a proper reconnoiter.
Now here he sat and with some relief, his business completed and as in most undertakings the paper work was yet to follow. But alas that was not to be. This particular "salon du toilet" did not possess such paper luxuries. DC was now concerned as to how to regain his dignity that he was apparently about to lose. He eyed the small room and his eyes came to rest on a freshly laundered, lightly starched, long sleeve, white cotton, sun fragranced man's shirt.
Here's the problem as he saw it. One, he was stuck in the bathroom, two, his friend's wife was about to come fresh 200 miles away; three, there was probably a very nice gas station attendant who was headed out with for a "clean shirt date" after closing time.
Now can you imagine what that attendant thought, here he was ready for that date with a hot Alabama wahine and when he opened the restroom door to fetch his shirt, and all he could find was the ....... "collar and cuffs".
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