<<< The strung-out young mother, alcohol
bloat and bags under her eyes, is arguing at the counter, 70¢ short
on an orange Gatorade for her baby; her 3 22s of Hurricane Ice (on special
at $1.39 ea.) already rung up and covered. I pick up a 40 of Mickey's Ice.
To anyone learning the language, it must appear that "Ice" means extra special.
And they'd be right. She's only 30¢ short when I get to the counter.
I dig in and give. In the parking lot, her man gives her shit: "You had to
get your beer, didn't you?" I ride away, brown bag in my basket.