So there’s a 76 station about a mile from my house. It has THE BEST fountain drinks and cinnamon bears out there. I frequent it. They know me. They know, and therefore, fear my kids. The owner of the store is a crazy lady. Her name is Sonye. She’s Vietnamese. After I had Abby she asked me if I was breastfeeding AND THEN GRABBED MY BOOBS. I told her yes because I was so freaked out at what she’d do if I told her the truth. She’s decked the whole place out in creepy looking statues that she decorates for the holidays. There’s a statue of a monkey that’s about four feet tall. It’s wearing a Santa hat. The dude at their food counter says he can make you ANYTHING. I asked for venison. He said he could. I’m pretty sure no matter what you order there, you’re going to get boiled cat. (the part about the venison I made up, I stand by my boiled cat statement)

So today we go in there, pay my $1.51 for my soda and head out. Peyton was with me. He’s always with me. I get out the door and he’s not behind me. I go back just as he’s on his way out. He’s laughing maniacally. So is the tooniceitboardersoncreepy clerk. Afraid he’d grabbed something or knocked down a display (again) I asked him, “Peeeeyyyyton…what did you do?”
He stops and says, “I licked the monkey.” Yes. The monkey statue in a mostly seethe gas station with a Santa hat on.

Gross.