Her Lucky Day

“God, take the wheel because I need both my hands to strangle some son of a bitch,” Bobbi Lynn said to the Beltway traffic. She weaved around slower moving cars on Connecticut Avenue. Lighting a Virginia Slims with her Lynyd Skynyd Bic, she cut off a tv repair van. Technically Cayden couldn’t yell about her being late since she was only running seventeen minutes behind. Minding her Tropical Passion acrylics Bobbi Lynn cracked open a Jolt.

It had been another long night with Emma. How can someone so tiny make such a big noise? She turned the radio dial from the news to her favorite radio show. She didn’t need anymore nightmares. Bobbi Lynn thought rubbing at her temple. Dolly Parton’s “I Will Always Love You,” came on the WKAZ. If only John would help just a little. It’s 2002 not 1902, she said to herself until the chorus kicked in. Bobbi Lynn was singing full out as she turned onto Aspen Hill Road.

Up ahead was her favorite Mobil gas station with the always fresh coffee and the cheese danishes big as her face. Past the honking of a newspaper delivery truck Bobbi Lynn pulled into the station and up to pump three. In a form fitted fuchsia pantsuit with strappy heels Bobbi Lynn headed inside for assorted pastries. Bobbi Lynn noticed a 1990s blue Chevy among her company’s 2001 Hondas.

Her pager dinged. Hot Lips get your sweet tush to the office ASAP the insurance paperwork is all screwed up on those Hyundais out of Fayetteville, the text read. Frosting drizzled flaky desserts glistened in the station’s front windows. Bobbi Lynn looked with sugar tinged sadness and headed back to her station wagon. She backed up one handed out the gas station. A cacophony of horns and expletives floated behind her wagon. A car backfired behind her she thought. The car rang aloud with Whitney Houston’s “I Will Always Love You.” Bobbi Lynn sang all the way to the office. Her day was looking up.

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