Unlikely Culprit

This morning as I was pumping gas (nearly $3 per gallon!!!) I could hear a clear bass line thumping out of an 80's vintage Blazer parked up by the quickie mart.  I was bobbing my head and shaking my hips just a smidge as I tried to place the beat.  To have me dancing before 10 a.m. was quite an accomplishment.  I wondered which tattooed young man would come out of the store and get into the hoopty that was heavy on the woofers, light on the turtle wax.

I watched as the exit door swung open and a gal in her late 30's wearing an old t-shirt, scruffy shorts, and a scowl marched out of the store and toward the Blazer, smokes in hand.

As she opened the driver's side door, the sound flowed out, much louder and clearer than before: "Oh, me so horny, me love you long time..."

Huh.