Ivy, the indomitable decided we just had to go to the Dollar General in the little village I live near. She’s outta chocolate, I guess.
“Hey”, sez I, “there’s that new Flea market opened up, we’ll hit that too!”
Yay! I like a flea market, better than about anything.
Any place named Funky Flea needs to be visited at least once.
We’re all a’dither. As Ivy drives in her meandering, punishing slow way. I swear I could’ve walked it faster.
She says we’ll go to the dollar store first. Oh, Noooooo. We flea-ing first. I veto her suggestion.
Well, crap. We get there. No lights. No ringy dingy door tinkle. No lively clerk welcoming us in. No go.
Closed. I peer in the window. I see a cat lying on the counter. Yeah. I’m gonna like this place.
Disappointed, we were getting in the car and a truck with Police insignia on the side pulls up behind and hollered what we were doing? Oops. I clam up. I can’t talk. I’m signing and Ivy says we were looking to go in.
He helpfully tells us they’re closed afternoons, except Thursday, Friday, Saturday.
“Yeah, sez Ivy, we read the sign”
I think she sounded smart alecky. I think Small town, part time, power hardy cop thought that, as well.
Luckily she wasn’t tazed and hauled to…wait …there ain’t no jail here. To, umm, wherever. Maybe run outta town.
I further think Ivy was mad as hell. She had a certain look on her face. I’ve seen that look before.
I wisely decided not to tell her if she drove faster we might’ve made it to the Funky Flea today. Yeah, I think I made a good choice, since the dollar store didn’t have her chocolate.