The Rain made almost horizontal by the wind fell in sheets, each drop a bucket of water on my leather coat. I had managed to park close, but not close enough, to the Atlantic Superstore. My girl had spent all day cooking at work, and just wanted to relax, and I had been relaxing my whole day off, so when she suggested I drive through the storm to pick up some pizza I was hardly in a position to refuse those emerald eyes, and angelic smile. There was a line up of weary post-shoppers waiting for their rides to pull up. See the Pizza had purchased was a n 18 inch in a white cardboard box laying precariously on a short cart beneath bags of milk, cat food, paper towels, and instant coffee. I did the only thing I could do, I ran in the rain getting as soaked as a teen singer in a bad music video. I pushed the cart past ever growing puddles, past blinded cars trying to leave, and over speed bumps never meant for fast moving carts. I wish I could say that I pulled out my car keys to press the button to unlock the car before I got there. Nope. The worst part was standing there fumbling through all my pockets, like Tasslehoff Burrfoot, looking for keys. Meanwhile, wishing I had worn my rain coat, knowing nobody back home was particularly interested in 18 inches of cold soggy pizza, I was starting to think this might not be a good idea. Finally found the foolish keys and opened the car, shoved everything in side, and then ran to the other side to get drive away.
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