walter the gas station poet and his ex, sarah

since driving into the city every night wrecks havoc on ruby’s gas tank, we got to see walter the gas station poet on sunday.

“hey girlfriend,” he said when i walked in to pay for my gas. “how are you?”
“good,” i said. it was still a little early for me, considering i hadn’t gone to bed until 5 in the a.m.
“holy shit, you’re tall,” said a little blonde woman who had been conversing with walter, the gas station poet.
“yeah,” i said and grinned. because what the fuck else do you say?
“how tall are you?” she asked.
“she’s perfect!” walter said.
“i’m 6’5″.” i said.
“wow,” she said.
“now get outta here sarah,” walter said to the little blonde woman. “i need to give this lady my undivided attention.”
“uh, i just need to pay for my gas,” i said.
“see if i bring you any more cookies,” sarah said. “i’ll see you later.”
“that’s my ex,” walter said. “you could probably tell that.”
“. . . ” i just smiled because i really had no idea what to say.
“oh, i had something i wanted to tell you,” walter said. “but now i’ve forgotten it.”
“that’s ok,” i said. “you can tell me next time i come in.”
“you want some coffee, a hot chocolate?”
“no, thanks,” i said. “the diet coke is enough.”
“you sure honey?”
“i’m sure.”
“well, don’t be stranger, i can’t wait until i see you again.”
“thanks,” i said. “have a good day.”
“you too.”

then, because sarah must move awfully slow, i got nailed about my height in the parking lot.

“wow, you are tall,” sarah said as she stood next to her little red convertible.
“Yeah,” i said.
“my granddaughter’s gonna be tall like you. she’s like in the 125th percentile for height. you know the whole planet’s getting taller. i’ve read studies. and now when i go to the northrup for dance shows, i’m the shortest one there. i don’t think these men are going to know what to do about all these tall women.”
“yeah,” i said.
“i think it’s great. i can’t wait until my granddaughter gets older and i can take her grocery shopping. you should see the hard time i have in that freezer aisle. she’ll be able to reach everything for me.”
“yep,” i said. “you get to reach all the high shelves when you’re tall.”
“you should enjoy it,” she said. “it’s a gift!”
“i do,” i said, and jumped into ruby.

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3 Comments

  1. wolfdog 08.Nov.04 at 10:06 pm

    ‘holy shit, you’re tall’ – I’ve tried to come up with a response for years…I got nothin. Just a faint grin and a nod of agreement to hopefully end the conversation.

    At Rock For Karl some dude about 4’11” said, ‘God, you make me look short’. Having a certain amount of beer in me made me tell him, ‘Dude, that stool makes you look short’. That wasn’t nice, I guess. I’m still working on it.

  2. jodi 08.Nov.04 at 10:34 pm

    not nice, but fucking hilarious nonetheless.

    i need to add more snarky comebacks to my response. i just can never think of them.

  3. dietcokegurl 09.Nov.04 at 8:06 am

    “Holy shit, you’re tall!”
    R: “Holy shit you have a firm grasp on the obvious!”
    R: “Holy shit you have a keen sense of observation!”
    R: “Holy shit…….”
    Whatever you say must mirror the exclamation the observer uses.