*Author's Note: Any and all persons engaging in any sexual activity are at least eighteen years of age.
**Disclaimers: This story has been edited by myself, utilizing Microsoft Spell-Check. Be forewarned; you will find mistakes. If that bothers you, then quit reading now.
*.**.***.**.*
Donna Goodwin watched the couple as he pushed the cart and she put items into the cart. They would playfully bicker about this item or that one; he would put the can or jar or box back onto the shelf and she would giggle and slap his arm and put the can or jar or box back into the buggy.
The young man was tall, at least six feet, three inches, broad shouldered with a narrow waist. Donna did like the way his buttocks looked in his cargo shorts. His peach colored pullover shirt did look good against his tanned skin and curly blond hair.
The girl was cute, in Donna's eyes. Not gorgeous, not pretty, just cute. The most striking thing about the girl was her ankle length straw colored hair. Standing next to the young man, the girl was quite short; Donna guessed the girl was most likely five feet even, maybe five one or two. Her wife beater shirt revealed ample breasts, her denim cutoff shorts revealed a chunky butt and slightly thick thighs. When they turned the aisle in front of Donna's checkout lane, Donna could see a smattering of freckles across the girl's nose.
Then the Coupon Queen was putting her weekly truck load of groceries onto Donna's conveyer belt and Donna lost sight of the couple. They called the ill-tempered woman 'The Coupon Queen' because she always had a fistful of coupons and it took a while to ring her up, ring up the coupons, then load all the bags into her two or three carts. And the entire time, the unpleasant woman stood, beady little eyes waiting for the cashier to make a mistake.
As if on cue, the woman shrilled, "Nuh uh, that coupon's fifty cents off."
"Ma'am, it expired on the fifteenth," Donna patiently explained, showing the woman the date on the coupon.
"Then take it off; I don't want it," the woman snarled.
While Donna Goodwin was collecting eighty three dollars and nine cents for three hundred and fifty three dollars and sixty one cents worth of groceries, , Bruce Thompson and Laci Meyers were looking over the selection of Nulough's flavored Vodkas. Bruce saw that some of the selection had the yellow Burns & Burns stickers on them. This sticker meant that the items were twenty percent off regular price. Laci was not looking for yellow stickers; she was actually looking for a flavor or flavors she might like.
"Peach," she called out.
"Uh huh, hmm, 'Citrus Twist' has a green, wow, green means it's thirty percent off," Bruce responded.
"Baba, I can get the peach?" Laci asked, playfully batting her large brown eyes at him.
"Keep looking; might find something even better," Bruce suggested.
Ever since they were toddlers, Laci had called her cousin 'Baba.' No one knew why; Laci didn't even know why. But her name for her favorite cousin had always been Baba. In time, Bruce's sisters and brothers and cousins also called him Baba. Aunt Cindy, his mother and their grandparents called him Brucie.
Twenty one years earlier, in Lowenburg, Arkansas, at the Cotton Bowl bowling alley, Jack Thompson and his younger sister Cindy were given lane nine. They slipped on the bowling shoes; Jack trying to fold his size fourteen triple E foot in half to fit into the size thirteen shoe and then searched for bowling balls.
"Find one big enough for my fingers, damned thing's all chipped up," Jack commented to his sister.
Jerry Meyers and his twin sister Roslyn Meyers were given lane ten. Roslyn tried to find a good bowling ball while Jerry tried to use a fake ID to buy a couple of beers.
"Kid, get out of here," the man at the concession stand snarled, not even looking at the ID. "Shit. Think I can't tell you what? Seventeen, eighteen?"
"Ain't my fault I just look young for my age," Jerry lied.
"Uh huh, looks like bullshit, sounds like bullshit, even smells like bullshit, know what? Think it might just be bullshit," the man said, turning to serve another customer.
"Where's my nachos?" Roslyn asked when her brother returned, empty handed.
"Ain't getting shit from that ass hole," Jerry spat.
"Jesus; just get a bowling ball, huh?" Roslyn said, marching to the concession stand.
A moment later, she returned and noticed the very attractive blond man and his blonde companion at the lane next to theirs. She put her plate of nachos down and quickly scribbled out Jerry and Roslyn on their score card. When she placed the scorecard onto the lighted panel, it projected the image of the card overhead.
Glancing over, Roslyn couldn't help but laugh. The good looking man had written 'Winner' and 'Winner's Sister' on their score card. His blonde companion was laughing as she slapped him.
"Jack, you are such a butt hole," Cindy squealed as she scratched out the names and wrote in 'Jack' and 'Cindy.'
"Bet we beat y'all," Jerry challenged, his eyes firmly glued to Cindy's ample chest.
"Okay; what we betting?" Jack smiled. "Hi, I'm Jack Thompson and this is my favorite sister Cindy."
"I'm his only sister," Cindy smiled.
"Jerry Meyers," Jerry said.
"Uh? Ahem?" Roslyn said.
"Huh? Oh. Yeah. And this is my sister," Jerry said.
"Hi, my sister," Jack smiled at Roslyn. "So, what we betting?"
"Ten bucks?" Jerry sneered.
"No. How about a pizza next door?" Jack said. "Their supreme, extra-large."
The Thompsons did easily trounce the Meyers. For Jack, Cindy, and Roslyn, it was an easy, fun competition. Jack and Cindy encouraged Jerry and Roslyn, even applauding when Jerry managed a surprising strike.
Jerry was sweating bullets, though. To him, this was a serious competition. He didn't know how much a pizza next door would cost; that ten bucks he'd offered was the sum total of the money he had in his pocket. Their uncle Craig had given Roslyn a gift card for the Cotton Bowl bowling alley.
"God damn it, really?" Jerry snarled at Roslyn when she missed picking up a spare.
"Hey, hey, Jerry, come on, huh?" Cindy soothed. "It's okay."
When the quartet trooped up to the counter to turn in their shoes and pay for the lane rental, Jerry sidled up to Jack. He admitted, he only had ten dollars.
"Hey, man, don't worry about it," Jack said, putting an affectionate arm around Jerry's shoulders. "This way? I'm getting to have pizza with my favorite sister and a beautiful brunette. Oh. And you."
"I'm his only sister," Cindy reminded Roslyn, smiling happily.
Over pizza and sodas; the waitress refused Jerry's fake ID, they found out that Jack was home from college. He was a junior at Myndee University, in Myndee, Arkansas.
"He's a junior, even though he's only nineteen," Cindy confided, her pride evident.
"Wow," Roslyn said, her big brown eyes drinking in the blond man.
