Roadside

Roadside

"Mister, this here is what we call a Texas ice cube" he said patting the giant block of ice on the counter.

"That's nice but don't you have anything a little smaller - something that I could maybe put into a glass?"

Reaching under the counter, he pulled out a large hammer.

"All you gotta do is whack it with this here hammer till a piece falls off that'll fit into your glass. I can let the hammer go for another three-fifty" he said adding it to my growing pile of loot.

The sign out front had said "Tackle, Ammo and Bail Bonds." Buck, was a true entrepreneur.

I had stopped by on impulse. The business trip was taking its toll. The idea of sitting next to a lake, fishing and sipping a cold soda struck me as just right.
Thirty minutes after entering, I had a pile of "necessities" so high it was hard for Buck and I to talk eye to eye.

"Look," I said. "I only wanted to get some fishing gear. Do I need all of this stuff? A lantern? What am I going to do with a lantern? I will be done well before dark."

"Like I said earlier young fella, the sun goes down quickly out here. Best to not be caught unprepared."

Buck was a tough man to say no to.

"Now then, what kinda fishing gear d'you need?" he said stepping back and waving his hand at a wall of equipment.

"What do you recommend?"

He reached under the counter again and pulled up three sticks of dynamite.

"If you wanna catch fish for sure, use one of these. They're what we, in these parts, call Texas fishing poles."

What could I do? I passed him my credit card.

Work count 300