Slim adjusted his belt and muttered, “My big regret—and there have been many–is I didn’t buy that Justin Bieber duct tape when it was for sale.”
”Jimmy Jack’s Dollar Store probably has it,” replied his friend.
“Damn—never thought of that—I’m gone.”
Slim sped down to Jack’s in his ‘58 Ford pickup with the broken muffler. He rolled into the parking lot like a tank on maneuvers.
He rushed up to a woman in a red smock by the entrance. “You all got Justin Bieber duct tape?
“Let me at it.”
“It’s behind the register—we didn’t want it shoplifted.”
The woman went to the register a few feet away, disappeared from sight for a few seconds, then emerged with the tape held over her head.
She had a twinkle in her eye and it took a long time for her to answer and when she did, she blew the words out like soft breeze:”$15.”
“Damn, that’s a lot for duct tape—I thought this was a dollar store.”
“Honey, this is Justin Bieber memorabilia of the highest order.”
Slim was unsure about the meaning of “memorabilia.”
“Ma’am, do you give a redneck discount?”
“Are you a country boy?”
“’My ’58 Ford’s in the lot.”
She licked her lips.
“Call me Slim.”
“$1 and a ride in your Ford.”
“A deal baby, a deal.”
A few months later at their wedding reception, Jenny and Slim used all of the Justin Bieber tape to hold down the paper tablecloths. After that “Justin Bieber” never came up again.
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