PhleGyAS

Today I stood on the corner of Hell and was refused passage back. I asked politely once or thrice. I even tried bribery. I was under the misguided notion that you could make a deal with the devil.

May I offer an edit to that Wiki entry: Once there, all bets are off.

I tried bargaining, bartering, bantering. In my mind I was devising a barricade.

Sure, I’ll leave my car…parked in front of the entrance with a sign that reads: GAS UP NEXT DOOR, THIS PLACE SUCKS. I mean, as long as you’re calling the cops let’s give them a reason for the visit.

It started with a simple request at the pump: See Cashier. So I did. He placed my card on the counter, turned on the pump, and said, go pump gas. So I did.

Imagine this, when I tried to pay the card was DECLINED. Go figure. In an instant I became a ‘gas-n-go’ thief. Except there was no going. I did what I was told, then treated like a criminal. Nice. Someone steals my credit line and I am the evildoer.

I tried leaving something of value while I ran for cash. NO. I tried to get him to call my credit card company. NO. I found my check book! NO CHECKS ALLOWED.

It would take magic to get me out of this one. In this hand I had NOTHING and in this one a CHECK. He chose NOTHING.

I had the option of A) living in this independently owned Hell Station B) leaving my car in lieu of the $18 gas charge C) having the police explain it to me.

While weighing my options, a customer interjected his shoe sense. “This is YOUR fault, this is YOUR fault”.

Not to be confused with Bush in any sense of the name, I did NOT duck from his shoe throwing. I threw a combat boot back.

“How is this MY fault?”

“It IS your fault!”

To which, I went ex-wife on him. I’m sad to say, I haven’t lost my touch. He immediately cowered behind the other customers collecting in the tiny ‘store’ to watch the Incredibly Big Shoe.

As I continued my lecture from the manager on the phone, the cantankerous customer was muttering something about just wanting to buy cigarettes. It took all my might not to wish a slow cancerous death upon him. Although I suspect it's already happening.

In the end a nice boy offered to pay. My Charon upon the River Styx. I should have guessed that Hell is a gas station, it says so right on the sign. I just didn't know it was on the corner of 193 and 29.


SHELL did offer an apology, but ultimately has no jurisdiction over the Station selling their petroleum. Talk about selling your soul to the devil.