Episode Eleven: Quin Checks Out

Friends! Welcome to this beautiful Tuesday afternoon! Please enjoy my story!



What’s wrong, dear?” Mrs. Brownfield asked.

How should I know, Eunice? The darn thing just is running funny.”

What could be wrong with it?” Mrs. Brownfield asked.

I don’t know! Didn’t I just say that?”

Mr. Brownfield swerved the van into the nearest off ramp and coasted into a gas station. The van came to a stop beside a gas pump. Mr. Brownfield beat his fists on the steering wheel.

At this rate, we’ll never get to Gettysburg!” he shouted.

Thank God for that.” muttered Sandy.

Mr. Brownfield pretended he hadn’t heard, but his heavy breathing and dark scowl kind of gave it away.

Quin, I believe this is were you get off.”

Quin had buried his face in a paperback novel. He lifted his head and took a quick look around him.

Ah, yes. Dixon, you say? Looks like a nice place.” Quin said.

Out.” Mr. Brownfield commanded.

Quin fumbled for a minute with the minivan door lock (each minivan has a different kind) and walked face first into the outdoors. He headed across the asphalt for a minute before stooping to pick up a quarter.

Quin found a quarter on the ground as he walked away. For another person, this would have meant nothing. For Quin, this was a windfall. To his exact knowledge, he had three dollars and ninety cents in his pocket that he could add this quarter to. That could only mean one thing: he had to buy a fruit flavored soda of some kind.

Many intelligent people decry the harmful effects of sugary beverages on enamel, the gums of your mouth, and the perilous condition of the ozone layer. And they’re right. Soda pop can be enjoyed in moderation, of course, which is why Quin buys a soda only whenever he finds on the ground enough change to do so.

Last year Quin collected $1,437.09 in pennies alone.

Pulling open the glass door to the drink cooler, Quin immediately saw a blue drink that he had to have. As luck would have it, there was a sale; one could buy a the blue drink and receive a discounted price on a bottle of cream soda for exactly . . . $4.15. Uncanny.

Quin took his sodas to the counter where he smiled at the high school girl working the cash register. She had cornrows in her black hair, a ring in her nose, a book of poetry in her hands (Poems to Make You Hate the World was its name), and pessimism in her head.

Hi, beautiful.” Quin said. “Do you take change?”

Sure.” the girl grunted.

Quin emptied his pockets onto the counter and commented on the girl’s book as she tallied up the coins.

Nice book. Have you come to the section by Shelley?” he asked.

Yeah,” she said, pleasantly surprised, although she fought to keep her face from showing it.. “It’s my favorite part. You’ve read this book too?”

Quin nodded.

Yeah. I didn’t pay too much attention though. There were no pictures.”

Ha. Funny. Well, I’ve read everything by Shelley.”

Quin grinned and shook his head ruefully.

That is the one thing that shakes my firm faith in optimism.” he said. “Pessimists are usually better informed and more well rounded readers than I am.”

The girl handed him back his sodas.

How much does it shake your faith?”

Quin smiled again.

Not at all. Goodbye, and have a nice day.” he said, and left.

Thank you friends! I’ll be back again on Saturday!

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