Wetumpka

I walk into gas station, or service station, as Todd's Dad calls it, in Wetumpka, AL. I get a bottled water out of the cooler and walk up to the register. A young, pierced and tattooed couple is in front of me buying smokes. The girl pays, chatting with the woman working the register. I remind myself that when in small town, do as the small town do; relax. No one is in a hurry. At all. They do their "How's your mom'n'em?" and then the guy moves up and asks for a lighter. The fat woman behind the register is wearing a t-shirt that says, "There's an eternal party in Hell. It's a BBQ and you don't want to be invited."

Her: "What color?"

Him: "Anything but blue."

He pays, and I move up to pay for my water.

Her: "I don't like red. Except for the color of Jesus' blood that he shed for me."

Okay.