We were driving to Durham separately, I with my GPS and Trent following me, but I needed to get gas so I pulled into a station and climbed out of my car. Trent followed me on in, pulling his his truck up along side of me. I was intent on pumping my gas so I didn’t pay much attention until I heard, loudly behind me:
“Shoooie gir’! You sho is purty! What ch’ya name?”
Every single person in the gas station turned to look and stare at me as I whirled around to find Trent leaning out of the window of his truck, beaming cherubically over at me.
That boy, ladies and gentlemen, is a -nut-.