Barefoot

She came in barefoot and looking for Barefoot wine.

I was at the counter paying for my fifth of Knob Creek.

“I want this discount,” she said to the clerk. “The one that’s good on Tuesdays.”

“But ma’am today is not Tuesday.”

“Do I look like someone who don’t know what day it is?” she asked, hand on hip, daring anyone to say yes.

I shook my head no.

“I want the discount, anyway.”

And she got it.