At Wal-Mart

I'm not sure what possessed me, but my first thought was, "I could take her."  She wouldn't stand a chance against me.  I could grab her perfectly fluffed hair and throw her down as she passed down the pizza aisle.  There wasn't much to her.  That buff colored jacket had to be a size two, and the high heels beneath her khakis would unbalance her with a good shove.  I didn't see if her nails were long and red, matching her big red leather purse.  They could be to my disadvantage, but I could totally bring her down.

I suppose the fact that I was in jeans and my Walmart t-shirt, hair that had gone flat with the weather, my scratched (and need to be thrown away) Clark mules, and a lack of swing in my step (it was, after all in the late afternoon and time for my daily afternoon slump), well, the un-Christian thought just popped into my head.  The moment passed and I admitted I could do a little more to look a bit put together.  I don't, however, suppose I could fling a sack of horse feed over my shoulder in that get-up.

Perhaps I need a vacation.