Sometimes I stop to pick up a sandwich from the tiny market out there on one of the country roads, a one stop shop where you can also purchase day-old donuts, beer and cigarettes. The sparkly lady was working the other day. Shiny halter top, knitted out of rhinestones the size of quarters and barely stretching it’s size medium over her size DDD chests. Sparkly eye shadow and bright blond curls, she carefully puts her cigarette in the ash tray to fix my sandwich.

All the market ladies always watch tv there. Judge Judy was on, something about yo mama and a landlord. If you want to know what’s going on in tv land, ask the market ladies. Murmur to them about the weather, and they’ll tell you about the news.

“Casey Anthony,” she says, totally unprovoked. Her boobies are almost jiggling out of her stretch shimmer armpits. It’s best if she doesn’t move too quickly.

“Can you believe it?” She stops spreading the mayo for a second and looks right at me. Boy did she pile on the liqua liner. The classic cat eye, and then some.

Hmmm. I sort of nod, and make a non committal humming noise. Because, you know, actually, I can. Lawyers are smart. They can do anything. Don’t mess with lawyers. I don’t say that, though. She’s not done making my sandwich. I pretend to become engrossed in Judge Judy. Turns out, it’s actually not Judge Judy , it’s a different Judge Lady with more of a bob, less of a straggly pixie, who could be any number of Safeway or CVS employees scanning through my items.

Tv judge, Rite-Aid employee. Everybody on their own trip.

“Pickles?”

“No thanks.”

“Avocado?”

“No thanks.” I like boring sandwiches. Truthfully, I was barely following the Casey Anthony thing. There’s a drought in Africa and a small plane crashed into the hospital the other night. Whole family died. They used to help orphans and enjoyed scuba diving. Also, in China, dogs are being dyed to resemble pandas.

Her smoke is still alive, resting on the little ashtray across from the register. Rings me up. Five bucks for a sandwich. Not sure what they go for in Florida. News website quoted someone in the hospital parking lot that saw the airplane family’s eyes bug out right before they flew over her and into the building.

I take my sandwich and walk around the guy that just came in. Big guy, in greasy denim trousers. He’s dustier than me.

“I’ll tell you what, US judicial system is a fraud.” I don’t catch the rest, but the sparkly lady perks up and starts in about Casey Anthony some more.

The little bell twinkles and the screen door slams behind me. Dogs are waiting in the car, they don’t get a sandwich, just me. The girl dogs barely bat an eye open then go back to sleep, Gustavo’s wide awake, ready to go. Could put the radio on the news, but just keep it playing Led Zeppelin, just because.