mean that
Posted in Uncategorized on September 2nd, 2010 by admin – Be the first to comment“Pardon me, sir: I wonder if you could help me?” I turned and glared. The woman had been all brightness with her classic request, but my stare made her falter.
“You’ll think I’m stupid, I guess — I locked my keys inside the car.”
“I can’t pick locks.”
“Oh, I didn’t mean that! My motel is just across the bridge. I was wondering if you’d run me over there, if you’re going that way. I have another key in my suitcase.”
It is small sport shooting the bird who perches on the muzzle of your gun, but what hunter could keep from doing it?
“All right.”
The whole situation was without appeal, and as I drove Miss Peggy Rankin (her name) over the bridge from Ocean City to the mainland, I was made more desultory by the fact that I guessed she didn’t deserve to be so severely judged. She appeared to be fairly intelligent, and indeed, had I been her husband I should doubtless have been proud that my wife still retained such trimness and spirit at age forty. But I was not her husband, and so I made no such allowances: she was a forty-year-old pickup, and only the most extraordinary charm could survive that classification.