spin the circle

“hey babycakes, spin the circle,” someone shouted from alley 2. i looked over from my perch at the bar, located behind alleys 5 &6.
“yeah babycakes, spin the circle.”
“what in the hell does that mean?” i asked as Tom rambled over to the bar.
“spin the circle that means my men need another round.”
“oh,” i said as i started gathering the beers.
“what was with the imposter last week? isn’t it bad enough you stick us with the old lady?” he asked referring to my mom who switches mondays with me.
“were you nice to her, she’s my sister,” i said (sister #2 had filled in for mom for a reason i can’t seem to remember).
“i was until i figured out who she was. talk about spit and image.”
“she looks just like mom, doesn’t she?”
“no kidding.”
“and her daughter looks just like her.”
“how old’s the daughter?”
“how old is your sister?”
“how old are you?”
“holy shit! i really thought you were a 22-year-old college student.”

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