Stewpot’s only claim to fame is its pronunciation, which isn’t the obvious. People passing through the less-than-one-horse town on their way to bigger and better places (“and that’s just about all of ’em!” longtime local Henry Clanghorn says, snapping in his dentures to enhance his mumble) expect to see a sign proclaiming it the home of a famous cooking vessel.
“Excuse me. Do you sell a commemorative stew pot?” they ask at the town’s lone store.
“Typical stewpot question!” June Clanghorn always says, hoping they’ll get the joke.
But they never do. They just turn on their heels, feeling insulted.
I think she was probably just trying to be friendly. Keep jeteing up those kerbs, gal. Don’t ever change.
You heard, “Hey, one step at a time, baby!” It said, “Hey, can you spare a dime, baby?” or “Hey, you want to see my mime, baby?” or “Hey, two-steppin’ on a rhyme, baby!” or “Hey, alot of pep at this time, baby!” Now think back carefully..
I think you should have shoved that cigarette down his/her throat. But then I have anger management issues.
FUCK ANGER MANAGEMENT!