Me? A blonde?

Well, today I worked at my church's concession stand at the Michigan vs. EMU football game. It wasn't fun. Nor did we make good money, because Eastern STINKS! The score was 55-0.

The most interesting thing that happened to me today was that I was threatened (I think) by one of the customers! I think this was my first threat by a non-relative, and I did not appreciate it. I was serving up Italian sausages (ick) topped with peppers and onions, and this guy got to the front of the line. He looked to be about 60 years old. He ordered a sausage, and I promptly placed one in front of him. He looked at me and said, "Is this thing hot?" I cheerily said, "Yes, sir!" He said, "It better be! I won't be happy if it isn't!" I smiled patiently and assured him that we carefully check the sausages to be sure that they register a piping 140 degrees. Then, the threat.

He glared at me over his bifocals and growled, "If it's not hot, I'll turn you into a blonde so fast..."

Hmmm. I don't know just what he meant, exactly, but I don't think he was complimenting my hair. (considering the drizzle, I'd be willing to bet on that.) I did a double-take and asked, "You'll do what, sir?" He raised his head, looked me right in the eye, and repeated himself. I assured him that he certainly would do no such thing, but he just mumbled and walked away.

And then I thought of all kinds of things I could have said, lots of carnal comebacks and threats of my own. "Blonde, huh? Hold on, you'll have to ask my strong and very broad-shouldered husband." "Oh, go choke on your stupid sausage, you ornery old coon!" "What are you gonna do; beat me with your bleacher pad?"

But I didn't say any of those things because he was long gone. That was probably God, saving me from embarrassing myself, and Him, too.