Story Story

When I was in highschool, my bus stop was a Citgo gas station.
Somedays after school, well most days after school, my mom would be
late to pick me up from the bus stop, which coincidentially was a 35
minute walk from my house. So if I didn't feel like walking or the
weather wasn't right, I'd have to wait in that Citgo foodmart. And
back then, there was nothing more I loathed to do than sit in that
Citgo foodmart. They had slots in the back of the store that drew some
odd characters to the Citgo. Notice that I said slots, as in slot
machines. In a gas station. In a small town; Kennesaw, GA pop. 0,002.
Why is irrelevant in this case, and plus I can't fathom a good enough
guesstamation at the moment. But the slot machines attracked some of
the strangest people: gamblers. Gambling addicts. And. They. Creeped.
Me. The. Fxck. Out. Anyway, there was also this shelf against the
wall, about 15 feet long, stocked with nothing. But. Porn. And it just
always made me feel sooo scared to look over and. . .oops I WAS
LOOKING AT THE WINDOW AND THE WALLS. That porn was just right in the
line of vision unfortunately. So I'd always look in the opposite
direction.
And Erin Farmer knew it too. She was in the same situation as me
somedays, waiting in that Citgo foodmart.
On one particular day when the ubiquity of the porn wall (as
it shall be addressed) become unbearably annoying I decided to focus
all of my concious attention on one object so that my periphial vision
would not notice the porn arena. That object at first was my parallel
reading for AP language. And it worked effectively, it was a damn good
book. But then I got tired of looking at the words and moved on to a
gambler who walked into the foodmart. She was no taller than 5 foot
and carried a cardboard box about a foot tall & wide. Seeing as she
didn't appear to be struggling under the gearth of it's contents, I
assumed it was empty. But then I began to wonder what the purpose of
the box would be if it were empty. I decided to intently stare at my
book to give the impression that I was reading and didn't notice her.
My periphial senses focused on her as if she were the porn wall. The
box wasn't empty. As the tiny woman in hair rolers and house slippers
slid her feet half heartedly toward the table I was sitting at, the
"gamblers' table", I noticed her face, and how it was dis-
proportionate to her physical actions. There was the look on her face
of someone wired on coffee, and a monster power drink, and maybe even
crack-cocaine: she was excited about something. Once she sat down and
began to shuffle through the contents of the box, I realized her
purpose. The box was filled with nothing but scratch offs. Scratch
offs of every kind. (Insert names of scratch-offs here.) There had to
be at least a couple hundred tickets in that box. And as she settled
into her chair while she sifted through the scratch-off maze for her
winnings, I was secretly glad to be distracted by her. The woman began
organizing the tickets, winning tickets on the table and duds in the
trash can. It was exciting to her, therefore it become interesting to
me. I stared at letters in the book and waited to see the out come. It
was like a reality tv show. No it wasn't. But it was better than the
book. And the porn wall.

"You shall no longer take things at second or third hand, ...You shall
not look through my eyes either, ...You shall listen to all sides and
filter them for yourself." - W.W.