You can call me grandma…

We live in a semi-rural area and I like it that way.  Yes, you see some ODD things that in many ways would be considered backwards, tacky or just plain hillbilly.   But I’ll take a hillbilly over a gang-banger any day of the week.

Since our little town is surrounded by farms, we have some local farmers that have stands where they sell fruits and vegetables, and we have one that we love particularly because of their corn on the cob.

So.

Usually my husband goes there, but yesterday I went because he was making dinner and the corn we had gotten from the grocery store was rotten.  I took my daughter with me and we braved the heat to go buy corn.

Sitting under the shade of the make-shift shelter, I spotted an old dude sitting in a chair next to a playpen with a baby in it, and two other people puttering around.  As we made our way to the corn, “old dude” started talking to Abby and she went over to look at the baby.  He asked her what her name was and then started to tell us a story about his “best girlfriend” who was 8 years named Abigail who left him and moved to Florida.

There were some serious Forrest Gump moments for a few seconds as he talked.

Then I noticed it.

One tooth.

This guy appeared to have no teeth except for ONE on the bottom.

So I’m sure that even though I tried as hard as I could NOT to stare, I was staring right at it while he talked.

I managed to start working my way out of the place (I had managed to pay while he was talking), and then he said something that  explained why he had no teeth.  Because some woman had clearly knocked them all out.

He said “she’s so cute, you are lucky, is she your grand-daughter?”

Huh, hey what?

GRAND-DAUGHTER?

Seriously?

That dude is lucky I didn’t knock out that last tooth.

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