SIR THANKSALOT

This is a story of gallantry.

The other day, TLW (The Little Woman) pointed to a kitchen chair and designated hanger saying: “Those clothes need to go to the cleaners.” I gave her my manly, and customary response, to let her know who is wearing the pants: “Yes, Dear. Are those your pants along with my suit?”

Off I go to the laundry, and I hand over the pants and suit, get my claim ticket and am told to return back Friday.

Out of the cleaners I go, stepping off the curb and into the parking lot. Suddenly I hear: “Sir, sir?”
I stop in my tracks, the voice of a young lady I hear. I turn around and am staring at a beautiful young gal, standing besides a red-hot sports convertible.

Mamma taught me never to speak to strangers (that’s how I met TLW), but what does Mamma know anyway. Seeing the lovely lady I say: “YESSSS!!!”

“Could you give me a jump?” (I usually don’t touch that with a ten foot pole, not even an eight foot Frenchman) but I suddenly realize she means her car! “Well, I don’t have cables on me.” She purrs, “I do”. Off I go to the car, jump in and drive around to her sports car nose to nose. This is a damsel in distress, mind you. I am Sir Thanksalot, the gallant knight in the dusty mud caked Santa Fe.

The lady by now has a full set of cables on the ground, her hood is opened and she is waiting for me. (Young beautiful ladies don’t wait for me anymore.) I open the hood of my truck, and she swings into action, sets up both cars with the cables and I start ‘erup. Over turns the sports car, I jump out, she disconnects, closes her hood and as I close mine, I hear: Thank you.”
Into the driver’s seat of my Santa Fe sit I, backing away, turning around, when suddenly; THAT LITTLE BROAD CUT ME OFF!!! Yes, after all that, she almost HITS me! I, jam my brakes on, and almost go through the windshield. Like I said before (Young beautiful ladies don’t wait for me anymore.)