Ramona, on ice

Not everybody found my little Oprah parody funny, as it turns out.  Not only did some platehead named “Sandy” post a rude comment, but my boss (and keeper) Arlette hit the roof when she found out I had written about handing out free ice to anyone who showed up with a bucket.

She told me that not only did I have no right to offer people the ice, she was going to put a big padlock on the ice machine and start charging five dollars for a big bag of it.  I guess she figures she can sell it to passersby.  Whatever.

After the blowup, she told me to collect my junk, vacate my roomette at The Jesus Motel and hit the road.  I was practically about to start hitchhiking in the general direction of Vegas, but I stopped after about five minutes, when I saw a naked man at the laundromat.  He was just running around, bareassed.  I went inside to check things out, and started chatting with the joint’s owner, Buckley.  As luck would have it, she’s one of Pepper’s ex-girlfriends.  When she found out I helped get him busted over in Kentucky, she offered me a job cleaning out lint traps and sweeping up in the laundromat.  Wow.

Not only that, but Buckley said I could move into the studio apartment over her garage.  I guess her current boyfriend - Thunder - remodeled it up real cute.  I’m staying in her guest room tonight (wow, free internet!) until Thunder gets back and lets me check the apartment out.  I have to say things have worked out well.   I’m hoping I run into Arlette in church or at the Wheelie Dealer tomorrow, so I can rub her face in it.  Oh… and I don’t reckon she’ll be selling much ice this weekend… as I was fleeing the scene, I “accidentally” tripped over the big black power cord for the ice machine, so I would venture a guess that it lost power.

Welcome to the Wheelie Wash!
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