I guess I should be thankful for the gasoline high prices. ‘Cuz now I don’t have money left to pamper all my vices.
While filling up my Chevy truck, to feed its appetite, the pump kept on a pumping like there was no end in sight.
The final numbers added up, one hundred forty-three. I’m feeling for the oil baron. How does he make ends meet?
Then, I walked into the Elk Creek Store, to buy a lottery. The kind you scratch, but seldom win. Just one more vice for me.
But my wallet fell a little short. My cash was in the tank. I offered up a few choice words, to some a little rank.
All my check went in the truck to buy a tank of fuel. About right then I guess I’d never felt more like a fool.
But then I recollected, I had stuffed away some cash. A hundred in the jockey box, my secret gambling stash.
I fumbled through the glove box, but no money to my eyes. Just a stack of bills, some bottle caps and two well-preserved French Fries.
Oh yes, my Massey tractor needed fuel and diesel sure ain’t cheap. I thought I borrowed fifty, but I must have took the heap.
The pump said eighty dollars, when filling my wife’s car. I didn’t have enough cash left to buy my maple bar.
Is a maple bar a vice? I guess it tends to make you fat. So, the price of gasoline has tossed my vices to the hat.
Got no money left for gambling. Not a single dime for drink. I don’t drink anyway but if I did that sure would stink.
I tell you something’s gotta give, while filling at the pump. ‘Cuz when I’m done, I always feel a bite out of my rump.
Are there any vices out there that don’t cost an arm of cash? I doubt they’d be a worthy vice, just trumped-up balderdash.
But one thing is for certain, ’bout these gasoline high rates. They’ve rounded up my vices. Who knows, I might see The Pearly Gates.
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