I was wrapping up a long day of painting when I realized I'd run out of smokes. So on the way home I stopped by the neighborhood liquor store, right around the corner.
It's owned by an Indian family and every time I'd been in before there was always someone behind the counter in a turban or sari. They never speak, only scowl. You get used to that here, the scowl. When you live in Bakersfield it becomes your default facial expression. Can't imagine why.
As I entered the store, I glanced to the counter and was shocked to see... a lumberjack! An honest to God lumberjack! He was about 6'4" and built. Dark hair and a full beard and wearing a red plaid flannel shirt and jeans. He appeared to be in his late 20's, early 30's.
And he was kinda hot.
Not really my type, but it had been so long since I'd seen an attractive man in this town I was a little smitten.
I don't know if he was new or if he always worked evenings - I'd never been in the store after dark before. There was no one else in the store. He flashed a big smile and asked how my evening was going. We exchanged a little small talk (that's what you call it when you're married. If I was single it would have been "flirting"). I noticed it was deathly quiet in the store and I mentioned he should throw on some music so it wasn't so creepy.
"Don't need no radio" he said. "I've got the best music in the world..."
"Playing right in here". He was tapping the side of his head.
Alrighty then.
Did I say "lumberjack"? I meant "serial killer".
