Duct tape, a whip, handcuffs, a box of protection, a bit of whiskey, lighter fluid & Claire

I love these damn truck stops. I walk in “Sack’s Last Stop” with the same calm feeling one has when they stride into their favorite friend-filled drinking hole. All the boys are lined up for the can. They have three truckers ahead of them, so I figure I got time for a coffee and a slice of lemon meringue pie.

I sit down, dead center at the diner. Her nametag says, “Claire”. She’s a cute twenty something year old that I’d try and make my girl if we only lived in the same town. She says…
“Hi”
“Hi, Claire, I’m Dave”. She smiles with the recognition of her name.
“Hi Dave. Ya’ll look like Weezer or somethin’, ya’ll in a band?”
“Yup”.
“Well, what’s it called”?
“Weezer”.
“Hell, I knew it.” Claire proudly throws out.
Claire laid the pie and coffee down, hoping for an approving smile from me, which I gladly give. The slice must have been in the display case for longer then it should, but it still glowed as if it was just made. Its meringue is still soft, but getting hard, still sugary but soon it can’t help but get bland. But, I’ve already gone bad and I’ll never get so low that I’ll put down a nice piece of pie.

I stretch and stand to do a little shopping. “Ah, duct tape, yeah I need this”, I pulled off a hook in the trucker aisle. I hear my friend Steve screaming out in laugher, so I take a left down the Cowboy aisle.
“Check this out, man”, Steve says as he cracks a black whip he found near the tasseled denim jackets. “I’m gettin’ one”.
I decide Steve’s right and grab a whip for myself.
The line for the bathroom is moving slowly; there is still one more trucker before my friends have a go. I spot some toy handcuffs in the kid’s aisle and my childhood toy addiction kicks in. I decide I must have a pair. I grab two and toss one to Steve. “Yeah, I love these”, Steve laughs.
I move over to the medicine aisle, for some Advil, but decide on a pack of protection, even though I hadn’t spent any time with a woman in some time. Maybe it was a sort of pep talk for my inner self.
I finally spot J.R., more focused on his night plans, eyeing the liquor rack. We both decide on a fifth of bad whisky. I head to the counter, where Claire mans the register along with the diner. I see a can of lighter fluid and think, “yeah, my Zippo’s gone a bit dry”.
“Dave”, Claire says quietly. She likes having me know she remembers my name. “Wow, this is some crazy stuff. I don’t need to call da cops on you, do I?” Claire laughs and looks up while I look down.
I notice the 6 items I have in front of her - duct tape, a whip, handcuffs, a pack of protection, a fifth of bad whisky and lighter fluid. Claire catches my embarrassment; we laugh together with the look of old friends.
“I didn’t realize”, I say. Claire laughs an inviting girl giggle and doesn’t need an explanation. I walk back to the diner for another 3 cups of coffee. Claire leans on the counter like a 50’s soda jerk girl. We spend time together till the boys are ready.
As Claire chats me up, I think about how odd my purchase was and what a kind, inviting, trusting girl this Claire is. I wonder if she’ll be the last I meet.

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