Tuesday, December 29, 2009

A weekend in Virginia.

Visiting my parents-in-law during the post-Christmas lull. I go to the local supermarket to pick up much needed wine for a family dinner. I select two bottles of red and then two bottles of white from the meager selection in the cooler, which in terms of shelf width is about one tenth the size of the large sign on the store wall boasting "chilled white wine."

At the cash register, the cashier looks at me in astonishment -- Am I about to be carded at age 53? Clearly not -- and asks "why didn't you buy six?" (Do I look as if I'm that desperate for a drink?) "If you buy six, you get a 10% discount," she explains.

"Yeah, but if I drink more than four bottles, I might get drunk," I quip.

Not a muscle moves on her face. "You can always save the other two for later," she suggests.

Am I out of practice as a humorist? Is it always that hard to get a laugh, even that close to the nation's capital?

No comments:

Post a Comment