Quick Mart

Who can remember the actual name of the place so we will just generically call it Quick Mart. As we entered the stretch of no man's land on enterstate I 95 it is yet another given that someone will have to potty in the most desterate way. Well the somebody this time was C. He said, "I have to go potty super extra bad." Okay, well there is not potty right now buddy but we are looking for one. "I can actually hold a very long time. An hour even." Okay, good to know.

I see that he is squirming in his seat while still playing the didj. So I ask, "Do you have to pee or poop?" He holds up two fingers and says, "actually both." Again, good to know.

So we finally come upon a quick mart kind of place in the middle of no where. Nan volunteers as she needs to go also. Good and fine. They sprint in. 15 minutes later a very flustered Nan comes out with this story.

She said, "C has diarrhea and it is not good." Okay. "Secondly, the guy in there is not from here and does not speak English." Okay. "Thirdly, there was NO toilet paper. So I have to go to the guy and try to describe via charades that my grandson has diarrhea and we need toilet paper and plenty of it." Then Nan proceeds to reenact the skit that finally clued Sir No English that she needed TP. It was hilarious! Nan bent over with pretend stomach pains, showing smells bad hand jesters and faces, and needing to wipe signals but alas NO toilet paper. Ah, what Sir No English must have been thinking.

It is still funny just remembering it.