Me: I’ll have a spicy chicken sandwich, please.
The girl at the counter at Wendys in Salina takes my order. She then raises an eyebrow and looks quizzically at my shirt.
Wendy: Did you have a nosebleed today?
I look down. There are a half dozen droplets of blood on the front of my hunting shirt.
Me: Oh, no, that’s not my blood.
Her eyes grow as big as saucers. I see the error in my statement and quickly correct it.
Me: It’s from one of the pheasants I killed today.
Her eyes stay wide. The corners of her mouth turn downwards as her chin drops in disgust.
Everything I say makes her face contort more grotesquely. I panic. I lie.
Me: I’m just kidding! Yeah, I had a nosebleed.
Wendy: Oh thank goodness!
3 Comments
There’s usually a chuckle at the end of reading your posts, but this one got an actual laugh out loud 🙂 from my hubby too when I made him read it as well.
Next time we get get done hunting I can punch ya in the nose so you don’t have to lie
And that’s why I call you a great hunting buddy!