Humor: Great Gas Shortage of 2008

I was waiting in line at the truck stop along with every other knucklehead swept up in the panic of the Great Southeastern Gas Shortage of Early Fall 2008 when my mind wandered, as it often does, and I flashed forward 30 or 40 years.

In my daydream, I was a grizzled old coot sitting on the front porch of the Happy Valley Retirement Home for People Who Used to Work at Something Called a Newspaper, passing the time with my two grandsons, Lester and Earl.

“Grandpa, tell us another story.”

“We don’t have time for another story, boy. President Bristol Palin is giving the State of the Union address on the hologram and, as you know, attendance is mandatory for all citizens.”

“Please, Grandpa. If you miss it you can always go back to re-education camp. They know you by name now.”

“Well, all right. What do you young ‘uns want to hear?”

“Tell us about the Great Southeastern Gas Shortage of Early Fall 2008.”

“Again? You boys can’t get enough of the time I beat the absolute goat cheese out of a man with a tire tool for cutting in front me at the Citgo.”

“Mama says you exaggerate.”

“Tell your mama she’s out of the will. Now, it was back in the early fall of 2008. Wall Street was in a meltdown. The government was on the verge of a historic bailout. But those of us who don’t know 401k from WD-40 were more concerned about getting gas so we could actually drive to the jobs that would eventually go away due to the meltdown.”

“Drive? You mean you couldn’t teleport yourself there with a molecular atomizer?”

“What are those edu-bots teaching you in that school of yours? Of course we couldn’t teleport ourselves. Hadn’t been invented yet. We had big, shiny, beautiful cars and trucks with engines that roared and spat out noxious greenhouse gases that warmed the earth to a respectable temperature. Then that dad-burned Al Gore came up with his Global Warming Reversal Ray and I’ve had to wear a sweater ever since.”

“Isn’t it time for your medication, Grandpa?”

“Pert near, Lester. But, let’s get back to the story. There I was, sitting in line at the Citgo, the only station in town that had gas at that very minute due to the pipeline disruption, 17 cars back, waiting to get as much as they would let me pump into the truck tank and the four five-gallon buckets in the back.”

“Were you scared they would run out before you got up there, Grandpa?”

“Terrified. Then I wouldn’t have had enough gas to drive all over town looking for more gas, which is what you do in a gas shortage. Two hours later, though, I was up there fourth in line at the Citgo. I knew I had enough time to run in for a Slush Puppy and a lottery ticket, which is just what I did. As I came out and started to get back in the truck, the line suddenly lurched forward and fellow in a BMW cut in front of me. Boys, that just wouldn’t do. I grabbed that tire tool and aimed to reclaim my rightful place line. But he came out of that BMW with an R-47 Laser Pistol.”

“I didn’t think those had been invented in 2008, Grandpa.”

“Uh...he was the one who invented it. It was a prototype. Anyway, I was too quick for him. Laid him right out. The police gave me a medal because the constitution says it’s justified to beat the absolute goat cheese out of a low-down, BMW-driving line cutter with a tire tool in time of a temporary gas shortage.”

“Did you get your gas, Grandpa?”

“Sure did. A whole $25 worth.”

“Then what did you do?”

“Drove all over town looking for another gas station. That’s what we did back in the Great Southeastern Gas Shortage of Early Fall 2008. Now, go get Grandpa’s medication, boy. I’ve got to pack my bags for re-education camp.”

Scott Hollifield is editor/general manager of The McDowell News in Marion, N.C. Contact him at P.O. Box 610, Marion, N.C. 28752 or e-mail rhollifield@mcdowellnews.com.