Overheard: "My mom died the day she got her first Social Security check."
- I stopped in at 11:37 p.m. to the Kangaroo Express off 21st and Grissom.
(Side Fact: I heard that a local toursim slogan in the 80s came close to reaching the billboards and brochures before the upper brass finally quashed it. "For a Good Time, Call Myrtle." Kinda catchy, no?)
At that hour, my needs included a bottle of water and two packs of Nekot cookies.
I threw the booty on the counter.
"Everybody says they own a computer, but nobody knows how to feed paper into a printer," complained the clerk, his salt-and-pepper hair slicked back to a curl at the top of his neck. He wasn't even looking at me. He had a ream in his hand--one with perforated, holed edges. And he had a non-Myrtle Beach accent, so I asked him where he was from originally.
"Up north. I used to come down every summer with my biker buddies. They hosted a golf tournament, and I won it three times. I'm the only person to win it three times. Two years in a row and then one more time after that. I'm just working here for one more year. I'm 61, and I'm retiring next year. At 62, I'm gettin that check. $1700 a month. I'm not waiting until I'm 65. Forget that, man. My mom waited. My mom, yeah, she died the day she got her first Social Security check. Yeah, we came home from the funeral, looked in the mailbox, and there was her check."