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You almost chortle at the words--deranged serial killer. Is there any other kind, you wonder. After finishing that bag of Salt & Vinegar chips, you look out at the islands and noticed an old lady in a beat up Oldsmobile pull up, No way could she be the one. Hiking out to put her gas in you notice a bunch of bags in the back seat.
Being the kind and helpful person you are, you ask, "How much?"
"Ten bucks worth, son," she says in her quirky little old lady voice.
While pumping gas, with nothing else to do, your eyes scan the contents of the bags, and notice some long items poking through at least one of them. You decide it must be a hoe.
Your stomach starts giving you grief. Gas? Now? But then maybe it's not. After setting the gas nozzle on automatic, you run back to the bathroom. real quick like, except it takes longer than you expected.
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