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05 May 2009 @ 12:01 pm
The Hitch-Hiker's Guide To Woodsdale.  
The Lovely Mrs. byoolin's trebuchet and I were carjacked by a little old lady earlier today.

We were driving home from the grocery store (a.k.a. "The Kroger") when a little old lady - height: five foot nothing, weight: a handful of dry leaves - stepped out onto the pavement of Edgwood [sic] Street and flagged us down.

My wife lowered her window as we pulled to a stop. "Can I help you?" she asked.

"Would you happen to be going to or near the Chase Bank by the Exxon station?" the little old lady asked.

I started to say no, because we weren't, but The Lovely Mrs. byoolin's trebuchet remembered that she did, in fact, have to go to the bank and interrupted me to invite her to hop in.

She got in the car and sat in the back seat, alternating between gasping for breath and repeating to herself, "Marcella, Marcella." She explained the gasping as being something she does all the time whenever she exerts herself now but did not explain "Marcella." I assumed it was her name. She told us that today was the day her Social Security check gets deposited and that she had been waiting for the bus but thought the chances were good that someone going through the neighbourhood might be going to the bank.

I thought about warning her of the dangers of hitch-hiking but decided against it. What centenarian wants to be lectured on lifestyle choices by a forty-something whippersnapper, after all?

We had a lovely chat as we drove to the bank - my wife volunteered us to bring her back, too - and they both went in and did their business. We dropped off the little old lady and her wallet stuffed with Social Security cash in front of her house.

If anyone asks, that's the last time we saw her. Okay?

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lotusbeans on May 5th, 2009 07:23 pm (UTC)
I thought she might have been reciting her name while endorsing her check.