The Flasher

So, there I was, standing on my front porch; minding my own business; when a car pulled up and stopped on the entrance apron to the alley.

At the time, I was wearing a nice Green Bay Packers hoodie I’d purchased from Blain’s Farm & Fleet several years ago (half-price, XL, for my son, who couldn’t squeeze into it, so I wound up wearing it.)

Looking down, I couldn’t see the drivers face and didn’t recognize the car either. What I DID see was the driver opening his jacket and pointing to his chest. His sweatshirt had a large gold Green Bay PACKERS ‘G’ emblazoned upon it.

The Big G

My best guess is that the driver felt a special kinship with me just ’cause we both wore PACKERS merchandise. He saw mine so he showed me his. Eh? I think I just got flashed by a Green Bay Packers fan.

Of course you know the term ‘fan’ is an abbreviation of “fanatic”; right?

About The Twentieth Man

Age 69
This entry was posted in Capitalism, Humor, Observations, Personal History, Short Stories. Bookmark the permalink.

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